I drew on a number of incidents and people from my own life experience to compose this novel. It was cathartic. I was standing at the side of my dead father looking out the window.
Excerpt – Bodies in a Window
Dad drove me in to the appointment in his flash blue Hillman Hunter car. I call it a flash car only because it was a damn sight newer and more expensive than my pile of rust. It was only two years old and he was very proud of it. He’d only just got it. In reality there was nothing special about it. It was a middle of the road saloon – a Hillman Hunter for fuck’s sake. But it was the best car dad had ever owned. He loved it. It was his pride and joy. I just wish he had managed to buy the thing earlier when he might have got a bit more use out of it. Trust him to start getting things together when he was about to fucking check out of the game!
On the day of the specialist appointment he drove that car like he had something to prove. I was glad we had seat belts in the front, my heap of rust didn’t. He drove fast. At one point a car pulled out of a side road in front of us. Did he brake? Did he brake fuck. He went straight round the back of it without slowing and with tyres squealing. Nice manoeuvre – unless some bastard was coming up behind the fool who’d pulled out. Maybe sitting on a death sentence made you a bit more cavalier with your life, though the bastard might have shown a bit more care and consideration towards me. I was planning on hanging around for a while to come. We lived and we somehow arrived at the hospital in one piece.
We sat in the waiting room and made small talk about football and cricket. Botham was the man of the moment. Dad talked about all of that incessantly. He was avoiding talking about his illness. Any distraction would do. He really did not want to confront dying. We assiduously skirted around it. I knew that if I hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have gone for that appointment. I was sure of that. But I got him there and he was going along with it.
Unlike that bastard of a doctor the specialist examined him thoroughly. Sent him for X-rays, took bloods and set us out in the corridor waiting again.
We were both quiet then. I looked out the window at all the people going past. I was deep into thinking. Those people out there all had dreams and aspirations just like me. Their lives were full. I could picture what some of their lives were like. I could even identify with some of them. I could fit in their shoes.
Dad just sat quietly, deep in thought.
Eventually we were ushered back in. The specialist had the X-Rays up on the screen. He did not bother explaining them to us. I could see the dark patches myself. I was a biologist. I knew the score. The specialist had everything he needed to know. The X-rays confirmed his suspicions. He pulled no punches. He sat us down and looked at both of us with a very serious face. I felt sorry for the guy. He must have to do this every fucking day. It was no fun telling people that they were dying. It had to take it out of you.
‘I’m sorry Mr Cooper you have inoperable liver cancer’.
Bodies in a Window: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781986269544: Books
Sounds like a really touching and poignant book.
I has a lot of biographical experience plus characters based on real people with real fictionalised incidents. It felt cathartic to write though it is very sexually explicit and graphic.
It really helps to write out our experiences. It’s a healing process in many ways.
I think writing is the best therapy of all. When you get into a writing trance and it just flows it’s like deep meditation¬!