The Value of a Very Good Decision
Jade, her feet hitting the road beneath her, continued thinking about how fun an extra $2,000 would be. But the competition her friend had mentioned was a contest for writers, and Jade was (contractually) just a Media Manager and, at this very moment, (decidedly) just a runner.
Luckily, Jade, the runner, coming in from her morning miles and kicking off her shoes, interrupted her own limiting thought: “WAIT, she exclaimed to herself, “I am a runner—” her voice suddenly softened with delight— “because I run.”
“So, technically, I am a writer… because I write, right?” Right! The decision was made. She smiled with pleasant surprise. How ingenious, simple, and convenient! With this newfound logic and conviction Jade joyfully qualified herself for the competition and moved into her afternoon to collect the proper materials.
First, she stopped by her grandmother’s home. In the driveway she spotted a busted pen stuck in the out-clicked position: unique, eager and ready to write. Such qualities make for a great partner in contest. She turned the tool over in her hand. Perfect.
Jade, upon entering Gramma's home, was greeted by nobody. She went into the sewing room where her grandmother, the seamstress, was (you guessed it) sewing. Without moving a muscle to welcome her granddaughter, Gramma muttered, “Hi dear.” She had a threaded needle perched between her lips.
Jade, so as not to disturb the intently focused seamstress any longer than necessary, quickly said, “Hi, Gramma. Do you have an old journal lying around?”
Fully immersed in her bobbin case situation, Gramma replied without ever turning around, “Yes, somewhere. Grandpa has an unfinished, small black notebook I think. Sketches in it. In the recliner’s pocket. Ouch!” She poked herself as she grabbed the needle from her lips.
“Thanks!” Jade said and left the room, recollecting and carrying out with her all the excited energy she had entered it with. Gramma continued with the bobbin case. Sure enough, Grandpa’s small black notebook was there in the pocket. With her pen and book acquired, Jade, the writer, sat down to write.
Jade peeled open Grandpa’s unfinished, little black book. To her delight, she saw her own handwriting on the first page. That’s right! Jade remembered she gifted Grandpa the book after his surgery as something to do while he healed in his recliner.
The next best thing to riding the mower is drawing it, right? I hope you'll enjoy sketching in here, Grandpa.
And he sure did! She gave it to him four years ago, before he had passed. In that time he had filled the little black book with charming sketches of vintage mowers, Iowan barns, fluorescent sunsets, rolling knolls. All perfectly shaded in colored pencil. Tractors, small deciduous saplings in snow, bound bales of hay. The unique lines from his wise, shaky hands made the work so distinct, so clearly Grandpa. Every blade of grass, fence post, and tree branch was drawn with the utmost love, intention, and focus. Jade grew emotional browsing the work. She arrived on Grandpa’s last page: a half-finished owl. Interesting, as Grandpa, the artist, had drawn only landscapes on all the previous pages. How curious he’d begin such a piece, at such a time, with an animal as his subject.
Jade ditched her original plot, now realizing exactly what she needed to write. She completed Grandpa’s half-drawn owl with her words. To her surprise, they came with supreme ease. The owl’s story soared down through her pen and danced into the little black book's pages. It was so happy to live and breathe. She submitted the story of the half-drawn owl to the contest.
Jade got an email two weeks later. That story of the half-drawn owl was the right one to write— she had won! But she blinked (not unlike a wide-eyed owl) and rubbed her eyes at her winnings. $20,000? TWENTY? Her friend had mistaken the 2,000-word count for the grand prize amount when he mentioned the competition to her. Tenfold what Jade, the writer, was expecting! Never had she been so happy to expect so little in return for her efforts.
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