For God so loved the world…he gave us an extra hour to write this weekend. Creeping up on the 50,000 word mark with a goal of 120,000.
I’m guessing this is true whether we’re writing fiction or fact but I find it hard to linger in the details of certain stories because I’m excited to get to past the past to each successive battle royale and bittersweet resolution. If we lived this way we’d miss life. Writing is teaching me to be here now, don’t skip ahead…unless it’s one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books and you want to avoid the zombie apocalypse.
Reading chapters out loud has become essential for making sure I’ve written down enough to bring the reader into all I’m seeing, feeling, thinking, touching or doing. Most of my life was spent in the throes of an eating disorder and poverty, so tasting for the first time comes later.
I was telling my husband last night, I’ve been writing this book in my head for years, mostly while doing cardio and it feels amazing to actually put to paper scenes I’ve worked and reworked a thousand times. They’re alive now! And that makes me feel alive.
One year and eight months ago my grandmother died which blew the final lid off the final barrels of unpacked trash from the past forcing me to sort, toss and recycle. I hated the dirty work but am loving the extra head space. Brutal gave way to breathing. Six months ago I told my life story to a journalist. Hello substance. Goodbye shadows. The best part was discovering you can’t get fired for being poor. Two months later I started writing my book. I can’t wait to see what happens next. xo
What makes you feel alive?