#A Runaway Life

teenage-runaway1  Writing my memoir is hard.  Really, really hard.  I’m working on a book proposal, which involves doing synopses of all of the chapters.  Well, I hadn’t really thought too much about chapters, so here I go making chapters, seeing where the scenes naturally divide themselves, start and end.  And they do, you know, the scenes of our lives just naturally divide themselves up:  now we are cooking, now we are eating, now we are making love.  And it all just flows.  There might be some awkward scenes, but that’s natural too.

Mainly, my jaw is dragging around on the floor that there are so many, so so many, scenes in my life. So many just trying to keep alive, trading some kind of commodity for some other, just to get a place to spend the night out of the elements, or a hamburger.  Jeez, most of them are pretty gritty.  Heh, she thinks cynically, maybe that’ll sell more copies.  Ugh.

2 thoughts on “#A Runaway Life

  1. You have a gift in writing. I am absolutely captivated by your story. Not because it is about abuse and trauma (as those topics seem to disturbingly sell so many books and movies these days…) but because you are so honest, real and your writing flows as it only ever does when someone has the true gift of words. When your book is published, I will buy it.

    • Thank you so much. It means a lot to me coming from you, since you are a very gifted writer yourself. It’s true, there seems to be a large population who are fascinated by other people’s misfortune and pain. I never cease to be amazed by it. I have a hard time reading that kind of thing. In fact, I have a hard time reading my own writing, because it triggers those memories that I’ve tried to forget for forty years. I think the only way they are going to go to rest is for me to lance the boil by setting them down on (virtual) paper. Be well xoxo

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