So writing a book can be really hard. HA. I am at the point in my manuscript where items need to be expanded on and the outline needs to be shifted. I don’t know if I am doing any of it correctly but I have never been the type to do anything neatly or organized.
When I draw something, my pencils, erasers and pastels are never lined up in an organized way as I switch between the drawing tools. I fling them, I drop them down when I need to pick up another and in my mind I know exactly where I put one or the other. Shavings of all kinds surround the perimeter of the paper. Michelle has watched me and it personally drives her crazy how messy I can be when I am doing something creative like that.
I am kind of in the same space with this manuscript except that it is all on the computer. Lord knows if I had these pages printed (and I have printed the manuscript once, it is almost time for a second print out) I could not have them strewn all over because I'd lose track and I don't even think I have the manuscript pages numbered yet. Insert face palm emoji.
I have also tried colored index cards to outline. That was fun and definitely helpful for whatever it was worth.
However this is happening, it is actually happening. It has been happening for about four years. Insert eye roll. Much longer than I had ever anticipated but I am not looking back or regretting a single thing right now. I am proud of what it is becoming.
Prior to quarantine I was meeting a friend of mine, Rosalie, to write each week for an hour minimum. We would meet at a Starbucks on 40th and Broadway. Our last meeting in person she brought a tub of Clorox wipes and cleaned every surface before I arrived. Rosalie is amazing. When we were forced into quarantine, we wanted to keep our weekly ritual going, what else was there to do but worry anyway? Since March we have Face-Timed almost weekly to keep working together. She is a gem who never stops taking classes and workshops, inspiring me to seek the same and I have never written more in my whole life.
The most rewarding part of the memoir experience is that stories are still coming to me, now more than ever. And I am realizing that, although I definitely went through some awkward times as a kid, so many events have been gifts. I am so grateful for the strange and unusual childhood and adolescence I had.
What I forget sometimes as an adult is that even though I felt very alone throughout my childhood and adolescence, I was never alone. I had a twin sister for God-sakes, and unbeknownst to us, we were cultivating a lifelong friendship with Ernie. The universe certainly knew what it was doing when it brought us all together. These three awkward kids, we always let our imagination create the world we dreamed of living in and built our homemade theatrical productions to make those dreams our reality in real time.
We may not have been popular or pretty, but we had so much more. We had an authentic connection that we gravitated towards and in a time where I felt alienated, we created our own inclusive world packed with an infinite amount of laughs and ridiculousness that I am most likely failing to truly bring to life in this memoir. But I am trying to do it justice. I am trying because I believe the world needs a story like this in a time where there is so much disconnect. Where diversity and inclusion seems to be a goal, but no one seems to be able to quite get there yet. In a world where we’ve progressed, but in the blink of an eye, we regress.
It will always be a journey and it will always be messy. I am just here to share mine.