excerpt from the middle of my book: walkabout, part 1

Here’s an excerpt from the middle of one of the books I’m writing. I chose this part because the next chapter contains the explanation for the name of this website. It’s coming soon.

I’d appreciate any and all comments, thoughts, questions and criticisms on my writing. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings- it would be much meaner to lie and tell me it’s perfect as it is; if I believed that, there would be no editing, no work, no improvement, and most likely no publishing. So, hit me with it.

…Except hold off on the grammar/spelling corrections, please. Unless it’s something pertaining to the story, like if I mistake the definition of a word and use it wrong. Please let me know if I do that.

And by the way, for those of you who are confused about what’s going on in the story, I’m sorry for not starting at the beginning. I wrote the first part a year ago, so it’s got some major reworking to do. Once that’s done with, I’ll put it up.

Until then, all I can say about the story is that it follows a 17-year-old girl dealing with severe depression (and various other issues) who gets sent away to a wilderness program in southern Utah. It’s written in the first person, and describes things exactly as she sees and experiences them- the good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s about how the outdoors, living to survive, complete exclusion from society, the silence of being alone in your head, and some exceptional friends can not only change your life forever; they just might save it. Oh yeah, and it’s 100% true.






For the last two nights, we'd camped at pretty much one of the worst sites i've ever had the misfortune to come across- worse than the one where i slept on shards of churt and woke up with a mouse in my hair, worse than the one where we had to drink water with cow placenta in it, worse even than the place where i woke up in a foot and a half of water. what was so bad about this campsite? one thing, really: the wind. well, the combination of wind and sand, really. no matter what you did, where you went, it was always there, whipping around your hair and spitting sand in your eyes and nose and ears and mouth and down your neck and pants. i wish i had a video of us all trying to cook around the fire- we must have looked so pathetic! no matter how hard you tried to guard your pot, everybody ended up eating sand. and just so you know, the term "anasazi seasoning" is not just a euphemism; it's pretty much an outright lie. i probably lost about half a millimeter of tooth enamel in those two days alone, grinding the tiny rocks around my molars with every bite. for once, dave wasn't the only one eating sand for dinner.

Mark sprung it on me that second night, after the girls finished washing their hair with yucca root and we had a trivia contest for the rest of john's food and zach got taken off small world and the old staff drove off. i could tell he'd said it casually in passing, like it was just another matter of business.

"Gabi, Taylor, Jessica- you're back in agreement. Zach, have your essays finished by Saturday. Ryan, find someone aside from dave show you how to roll your pack tomorrow. i understand everyone in this group needs to do traps and digthrows---"

"I made a digthrow my first week! Phil tested it! Outta pine or cottonwood or something. damn, that was a bomb digthrow, man! fuck yeah..."

"Do you still have it?"

"Uhhh....no...."

"Then you need to make a new one for Family. And you're out of agreement for losing it."

"I didn't lose it! I chucked that piece a shit!"

"Doesn't matter. Also, you damaged the wood which means that losing it counts as littering. So Dave is out of agreement. All of you, keep your eyes out this week for digthrow material. I volunteer to help everyone with traps. If you want to get a communications circle going, you can call it during a break on the hike, or else once we get to camp. I want us up every morning to crush coals fifteen minutes after i give the wakeup call- that means everyone out there helping, not just staff and the girls- and once that is done, you will have exactly one hour to check your feet, roll your stuff, and fill up your water bottles before you're late. Then we'll have a goals circle, do a quick camp sweep and start hiking. Remember, every extra minute you take will need to be compensated for. Different counselors find the time in different ways; some will have you hike backwards the way you came. As most of you know, I have my groups find time in the mornings; if we're thirty minutes late leaving camp, we wake up thirty minutes earlier the next morning. I don't know about you guys, but I like my sleep. So I would encourage everyone to do what it takes to be on time. Yes, Sarah, this applies to staff as well. If we're late, everyone wakes up early. Any other questions? Yes, Zach, filling up water has to be done during the one hour. Yes, dropping them and attaching them to your pack does too. No, that is not unfair. How are you supposed to do it that fast? I'm sure you'll find a way. No, I think it's a perfectly reasonable expectation. Zach, do you know how long it takes me to roll my pack? About fifteen minutes. Besides, I don't see what the big deal is- we have jug water, you don't even have to walk far to get it! This is ridiculous. I'm not going to waste time arguing about this. That's fine with me if you don't drop your water, Zach. I won't be the one with giardia. Have fun with that. Okay. Fantastic. Moving on, tomorrow will be Sarah's walkabout---"

I'd been drawing circles idly in the sand with my index finger; at the sound of my name I jerked my head up and snapped my eyes on Mark's. I had to crane my neck uncomfortably far back to see under the brim of my hat, which I always wore pulled down over my face to hide as much of it as possible. I squinted at Mark and tilted my hat back a few inches to see him better. He had to be kidding.

"---if you'll do it, Sarah?"

A question posed to me. My bafflement doubled. Everything in his posture proclaimed confidence and leadership, but the look Mark gave me was hesitant. Not like he doubted my abilities; like he wanted me to try but was convinced I would say no. I gave him a look: you have GOT to be kidding. He looked back at me: I'm not.

"HUH?"

Mark repeated his last sentence, this time leaving out the question part.

"What??? But... Like a practice walkabout?"

Nope. A real one.

"But... I've never even done a practice one before! I mean, unless you count that time with Dave, but that was a total disaster. And it wasn't even by myself!"

It may as well have been for all the help he gave me, I thought to myself, mentally laughing to myself. He'd gone crashing through the brush in the complete wrong direction without consulting me at all, and when Gabi tried to tell him she thought we might be going the wrong way, he'd flipped out and said something along the lines of "fuck you, bitch," afterwhich there ensued an interesting circle ending in a role play. I spent the rest of the hike telling him we were going south when we needed to go northeast, and it wasn't until he listened to me that we got to camp. But that was just one time. And once we'd gotten there I'd cried for an hour; it had been such a miserable experience. Surely I couldn't be expected to do that sort of thing again.

"But... Gabi and Taylor and Zach have been here longer than I have... You must mean them, right? Because... they've been here longer, so... right??"

Nope. No mistake. He meant me.

"But... What??? I--- wh--- ...I just don't get it, WHY??? I can't, I mean, I don't... what???"

I looked around helplessly. Most of the others looked confused too. Mark didn't break his gaze. He looked at me, the hesitance beginning to dissolve into apathy.

"You don't HAVE to do it Sarah."

Now I was annoyed as well as frightened and confused. "I just--- I don't think I CAN..."

"I do."

Well, that was just plain weird. He obviously wasn't aware that I had about as much sense of direction as a peanutbutter sandwich. I got lost in my home town. Like, constantly. Where we'd lived for twelve years. My mom was afraid to let me go to the grocery store by myself because she knew I'd get lost. I got lost every single time I went to therapy in Ludlow. (twice a week every week for over three months) I got lost coming home from the library, which was three miles from our house. I had no idea where the post office was, or the bank, or the local public high school. I even got lost on the way to work one time- how pathetic was THAT?! I knew how to get to Walmart, and to church, and to the orthodontist and the mall, and to the groomer's, and to school. And that was IT.

"Like I said, Sarah, it's your choice. You don't HAVE to do it. I just thought it would be a good day for it, but if you don't want to..."

I took a deep breath and held it for a second, channeling my energy into preventing myself from hyperventilating on the spot. Then I lifted my chin, letting out the air with a scowl. I glared defiantly at Mark. Me? Wimp out? HAH! Not on your life. I snatched off my hat and nudged my glasses up the ridge of my nose with the back of my hand. A bit of sand went down the back of my shirt as I tossed my just-washed, yucca-scented hair.

"Sure, I'll do it."

Mark smiled. I raised my eyebrows haughtily. He leaned back on his hands, pleased, and looked around at the group.

"Any other circle business?" The note of finality insured the brief silence that followed. "No? Well then, let's close."

We all stumbled to our feet, dusting sand off our laps and sweaters and hands, moving in to huddle around the area where we would have had a fire--- the wind had been blowing hot coals everywhere, causing us to put it out as soon as everyone finished cooking. It was a bit sad for me, since I had been the one to bust that night. I hastily put my hat back on and the people on either side of me slid an arm around my shoulders. As I listened to the familiar hum and rhythm of the serenity prayer, I wondered to myself:

...What in the HELL had I just done??!