Disclaimer: This post is not at all related to anything even remotely Tolkien. My apologies for misleading any googlers.
Instead, this post is about my family's odd traditions.
One is the banging on pots and pans when a family member departs. The family gathers (post hugs and kisses) on the front lawn, hands behind backs, as if the departing members don't know what is behind them. Surprise! Banging commences, as the car backs out of the driveway, and continues, until the car and departing family members are safely out of sight (and embarrassment range). It is always a weird moment of celebration and sadness. Or, maybe, a sad moment that we are trying to convince to be celebratory. For me, the noise of pots and pans banging always triggers feelings of goodbye.
Another tradition, a more constructive one, is the one ring. When departing family members arrive at home, it is customary to call to the pot banging relatives, and let the phone ring once. A signal that you have journeyed safely all the way back home.
A writing friend of mine is on the road. And I'm waiting for that electric one ring--that e-mail--that tells me that he got home safely.
I'm also waiting for another kind of one ring. The kind that signals the end of a revision. The one that says that my main characters got where they were going safely. It may be a while, but I'll be listening. Their pots and pans banged such a long time ago--I think it's about time for a one ring.
What kind of signals are you listening for, in your writing, or in your life?