I haven’t written on this blog in a week, but that means little, since I have been writing on a blog. For a few years now, I’ve had an idea – or I guess a bunch of ideas – pinging around in my head. I think last week I finally decided it was time. That life wasn’t going to wait for me to grow a pair and just get started, and that I would regret it forever if I didn’t finally just tell the darn story.
I remember how I felt that I was a capable writer in college, and how over the last few years that feeling has all but disappeared. It’s nobody’s fault but my own, but I just lost all my confidence in that area of my life. Fortunately, it’s kind of like riding a bike – you may not think you can do it, but after you get back in the saddle and maybe fall off once or twice, it comes right back to you. Before you know it, you’re sailing through the wind – or in my case, paragraphs and pages – and it all makes sense again.
I won’t go so far as to say that all these ideas make sense to anyone but me just yet, but I’m getting pretty close. I started a private blog where I can work on “chapters” (not sure what else to call them at this point, so “chapters” is it), and so far it’s a system that is working out extremely well for me. The thing about the chapters is that they’re more like vacuums, really – little segments of time separated out into parcels that stand alone. My goal is to have them weave together a story.
The story is part family history, part memoir (a word which I haaaaate, but there you have it), part fiction. What? Nobody’s family history or life story is really interesting enough to warrant a novel. I’m pretty sure even the Kennedy’s had more boring, plain days than they did extraordinary, remarkable ones. I really don’t want to tell too much at this point, so I thought I’d post an inspiration “board,” if that makes sense (it probably doesn’t). Some pictures, images, and even songs that are really playing into this thing in a strong way.
I know that this could and in all likelihood will all come together and I will be the only person who gets goosebumps from it – that’s a risk I’m willing to take. This is really more about self-discovery, just writing the crap down, and finally finishing what I’ve started a few times now. I don’t really expect most people to care, but I know a few people who will. My grandfather would care. My dad will care. My mom will be proud. My husband will read every chapter. My kids will treasure it one day. If that is all it ever becomes, then that is my only real goal. And to finish it – finally.