I am interviewed by Ruth Jacobs on Thoughtful Women!
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.
Remember when serial adventure stories were printed on the sides of breakfast cereal boxes? I used to think they were called “cereal” stories.
This is my story, but it won’t fit on a cereal box so I will tell it here, in bits and pieces.
It’s the story of my life. True, I am a grownup now, as much as child survivors of the horrors of the street can grow up. Much of the time, I’m still down there in the gutter, duking it out with a life that I thought I chose, which turned out to be anything but the glamorous life of a California hippie in the 1970’s.
My story is not glamorous. In fact, it’s horrifying. It’s the story of a naive and innocent 16 year old girl who ran away from an abusive home in the year 1970, expecting to find love and light and flowers and incense. What she found instead was a world of predators and perps, cold-hearted people, rain and snow and hunger and cold.
I want you to know the whole story. My next post will begin at the beginning. Let me warn you now: it is not pretty. It is ugly and violent. As much as I want to share my story with as many people as possible,if you have issues with PTSD triggers around sexual violence, I warn to to proceed with caution, or you might not want to read it at all.
Till next time,