Conflict instigated the writing of Cut From the Earth. Real life drama. Family drama. Like good fiction riddled with problems that move the story forward, conflict literally spurred me from my comfortable hammock, thrust me to sea in an open dory, rowing without life jackets along Brazil’s southern coast, and into writing a novel. Moments before leaving land   ̶  providence  ̶  I threw in the boat the book Your First Novel by Ann Rittenberg and Laura Whitecomb; a writing book I had been packing around the world and had yet to follow its advice and instruction.

The ordeal started a 40-day sea journey, the opening of that book, and pen to paper.

We left the mainland and set to explore the uninhabited tropical islands along the southern coast of Brazil.

The interpersonal event thrust open the space for me to write Cut From the Earth, a story that had been brewing for years. The moment manifest of long quiet days with nothing begging of our time but feeding ourselves, seeking ancient hieroglyphics, and enjoying the peace and wild of the islands and sea. Idle time. Open time. Time without demands. Time without constraints. I wrote 70 pages of Cut From the Earth under swaying palms, by headlamp in our tent during tropical night storms, in the ion charged ocean mist as waves crashed on the island rocks, and at smoky fires repelling the swarming insects. The novel’s story came forth into the hot humid air as my steam of the past events simmered. And the experience of rowing an open dory on the Atlantic, life jacket less, rang a tune of old sea times of my husband’s forefathers in the eighteenth century while they explored and settled the Brazilian coast, the time period of my story. Conflict, oh sweet conflict! How you prod and push us into ourselves and our dreams, forcing us forward to look for solutions to our problems. For sometimes it takes an out-of-the-ordinary event to release us onto our desired path.

Conflict, the substance of epic tales and the kick-starter for realizing Cut From the Earth.