All last week meteorologists on television were using this term – the cone of uncertainty – to discuss a hurricane/tropical storm threatening the Atlantic coast. Danny, I believe was the name given to this system of low pressure, clouds, wind and rain. This term is the weather equivalent of saying – “we aren’t sure where this thing is headed.” The cone gives them the leeway of prediction, by as much as hundreds of miles.
What will happen? Where will it hit and when?
There are always a multitude of possibilities. To me, this term is larger and more relevant to life in general. I want to take it out of the weather related context. Life has a cone of uncertainty too. My last novel focused on this point. It has always been an idea that has felt important to me – how all the small choices you make add up to alter your life (and other people’s lives) in significant ways.
This point has been hammered home to me, most recently, with a death in my family. I search for meaning in this uncertainty, to try and fill the void that has opened up in my life. I feel the absence in a very concrete way, there is something missing in the world. I’m struggling with this now. Loss is terrible. There is no need to dress it up in complex ideas and language – it hurts.
For me, my plans are all off kilter. My writing stalled. This is part of that uncertainty of life I suppose. I may have to put my work in progress away for a while. My family saga is a bit too close right now, a bit to raw.
So, I’m going to work on an idea that I outlined a few months ago. The tentative title – “Dissonance.” It is a hulking piece of angst, doomed love and pinpointing that sense of generational isolation. I think it will serve as a nice distraction.