Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Guest Post: Don't Forget About Paris by Ren Garcia

Don’t Forget about Paris …
by Ren Garcia
January 13, 2011

I looked at the phone and held the receiver in my disbelieving hand.

Is it 2 … 3 … 7 … ?

I could not remember my mother’s phone number. My mom’s had the same phone number for thirty years. Land-line, old school. I know that number backwards and sideways. I’ve known it since I was a kid, when Mom used to write it down on a scrap of paper for me to take. “Now, call home if you need anything,” she said. I didn’t need the paper–I knew it cold.

I knew it cold …

And now I’m standing there with the phone in my hand and I can’t remember mother’s number. I could, of course, grab my Smartphone and speed dial it out of the Contacts list, but what would that prove, that my mom’s nothing more than a blip on a screen.

I stood there completely blank.

Why? What happened? I’ve spent so much time locked in the basement like a family secret, writing my stories in millions of words and reveling in things that never were. I am a god in the basement where I create all things. I step out and what am I? A creature who’s quickly forgetting many of the things that matter most.
You cannot spend so much time in the make-believe that you forget to exist in the real world. I promised my wife I’d take her to Paris–and I have not taken her to Paris. I’ve made lots of promises, how many have I broken?

My Honeydo list is intolerable.

I stood there with the phone, the dial tone converting to an accusing howl. I clicked the switch and started over and forced the unreal from my head. I forced myself to remember my mother’s number, seeing the digits in my head, tracing it out on the dial pad with my finger. One digit at a time, then: “Hello?”
“Hi, mom …” I couldn’t even recall what I was calling about . It didn’t matter. I’d remembered my mother’s number.

So, to my wife–I will take you to Paris. I’m sorry, my love, please forgive me.

To my mom–I will never forget your number again. Oh look, your birthday is coming up. I won’t forget.
I swear it.

UPDATE: 2014

So, here it is just a little over three years since I posted this cathartic little item when I became distant from the people I love. I’m happy to say I kept my promises to myself. I still remember my mother’s phone number and I took my wife to Europe last year(just not Paris–that’s next trip!). This post was a harsh wake up to myself reminding me not to allow the unreal to dominate my time and thoughts, at least not to the point of madness and obsession. I have since changed my writing process. I migrated from the basement to upstairs in the bright lights of the loft where my wife watches television. I stand at a podium with my latest WIP while the giant TV blares. I talk to my wife. I ask her about her day. We laugh. I peck away at the WIP.

I still create a host of strange things, just not as quickly as before. I keep things in perspective.

You cannot allow yourself to become like I did, a wraith in the basement possessed with an imaginary world. No matter what your personal situation is, it’s simply not a healthy way to carry on. Ask yourself some tough questions: Have you broken any promises? Have you forgotten important things? Have you neglected yourself and your health?

Be honest in your answers. Change things up, alter your process, adjust the mood. Take a day off every so often. Set yourself a limit, I usually don’t go much past 2000 words a day. 2000 words is good. Very good.
While creating the lives of imaginary people, don’t forget to live a little yourself.

Bowl Naked



Ren Garcia is a Science Fiction/Fantasy author and Texas native who grew up in western Ohio. He has been writing since before he could write, often scribbling alien lingo on any available wall or floor with assorted crayons. He attended The Ohio State University and majored in English Literature. Ren has been an avid lover of anything surreal since childhood, he also has a passion for caving, urban archeology and architecture. His books are published by Loconeal Publishing. He currently lives in Columbus, Ohio with his wife, and their three dogs.


  1. Thanks, Mysti. I still get a little emotional when I re-read that posting. I'd fallen into a bad place. For years I'd allow writing, my passion, to dominate me, to hollow me out. When our passions come to rule our lives in such a fashion, they are no longer mere pursuits, they are addiction and just as vile and difficult to overcome as any.

  2. Thanks for such a personal, moving post. I can, of course, relate. Being a parent adds another layer to the balance equation. I often don't have as much time to write as I'd like, and that gets to me at times, even more so than spending too much time at it, but when I do that, my family gets upset. I've discovered it's a really tough balancing act that I'm not going to get perfect anytime soon.


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