Time
a personal essay by Janice Daugharty
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Janice Daugharty
"Even working in microcosm, Janice Daugharty is a writer who thinks big." New York Times Book Review
I'm likely to be proved a liar for believing that life gets easier, if not sweeter, with time. But it’s difficult not to feel that way when I look back, and further back, over the generations of my family. I’ve recently finished "Big Eddy," the sequel to my novel, "Just Doll," and am once again awaiting the magical transformation of manuscript to book. "Staten Bay," the series, is so named for the prosperous working plantation where all three stories take place; "Just Doll" gets its title from my main character, a beautiful but unassuming pioneer woman named Doll. Her story is set in 1870-1900; her granddaughter May’s story, next in line for publication, takes place from 1900-1998. So, I’m much attuned to change, that progression from hard to soft living. I’m divided down the middle, part of me in the past and part of me in the present.
Prior to the debut of "Just Doll," I recall sitting down to a late winter breakfast with my husband and grown son and his brother-in-law, who manages our thriving construction and wireless communications business. My husband and son are the owners, the masterminds and backbone behind the blacktop and cell towers taking over the southeast. The “boys’”—both in their mid-thirties--looked bright with their close-cut hair, smart in stylish camouflage. They had just come in from deer hunting, and we were celebrating the head of the household at the head of the table having killed 3 deer that morning. The boys hadn’t even gotten a shot. It was freezing cold outside but we were warm in my kitchen, full on stewed venison, grits and hot coffee.