Peter Steward's Web Site
Starting scraps of a novel that I have no idea about. But anyway here it is:
We are so small, so insignificant.
And I'm not just talking about myself and Geraldine but about the whole human race.
I remember when I was 19 being asked the question "How can we justify our existence?"
At that time it seemed to be a ridiculous question: "We justify our existence simpy by existing. After all being born was not our choice. We didn't ask to come into the world. We therefore have nothing to justify. We have nothing to prove?"
I remember the conversation going round in circles and eventually ending with no conclusions.
Now in middle age I am left asking those very same questions "how do I justify my existence" and "Is what I give enough?"
Underneath it all you have to hold onto the concept that each person is a small piece of a gigantic jigsaw.
Sometimes the smallest matters get me thinking this way. Tonight it just happened to be a party political broadcast for the coming elections.
The candidate (the party he represented is of no particular relevance) was pontificating about the whys and wherefores of our daily grind. I must apologise at this point for using such cumbersome words but I have been asked to put my feelings down on paper and I believe I must be honest and use "my words" however awkward they may seem.
Even as I write these words I feel a tear running down my cheek. Of course I'm not really crying. It is nothing more than hay fever - or so I tell myself.
But I seem to be losing the thread somewhat, trying to cram too many thoughts into too small a space.
The question I really have to ask is will anybody read this? I have the feeling that my views, my thoughts and my efforts will be consigned to the rubbish bin.
That would put them in line with all the novels I have never written, all the books I have never started, promised to continue but thrown away when I have become disillusioned with my own ability.
As I write this I still get very confused. So many things flash through my mind, so many memories come flooding back only to lose their way amongst my own confusion.
So maybe a break is in order. Maybe I will leave this for a while to try and sort my thoughts out before beginning again.
* * *
We are so small, so insignificant. My starting point remains the same. I don't know now whether it will ever change. At my age we tend to get stuck in our ways. It may be an old cliche but it's certainly true.
To know where to start is the difficulty. There are two aspects to what I am trying to achieve. Firstly I need to put my feelings and thoughts down on paper and secondly ......