Stephen King Sabotaged Me (allegedly)

Progress has been slow, but steady. The good news is that I have finally figured out where to end the memoir, which has been driving me nuts for the past 3 months. I am also now (as of yesterday) pre-editing the 3rd part of the book. Although, the task has not proved to be easy. Quite the opposite, actually.

In fact, as I stared at the screen yesterday . I could literally feel time being sucked out from underneath me as I tried to decide whether I should delete an entire chapter or add another one to a book that I already will need to cut at least 20,000 words from. I also found myself hating several of the chapter transitions, but could not come up with a solution to improve any of them.

When I first started writing the book, I thought about writing each chapter as if it were its own separate story. A series of flashbacks – since that seems to be how things come together in my memory, which would have solved that problem. Unfortunately, I had to drop the idea when I realized Stephen King wrote his memoir, On Writing, in the same style.

Dammit, Stephen!

Aside from being perturbed with Stephen King for ruining my idea by coming up with it first, I’m also struggling to retrieve important memories. There are so many conversations I’m struggling to remember 7 years later, even though they are important pieces to my story. How do I convey a feeling or mood when I have to ask myself questions like , “Why did we laugh so hard in the parking lot, again?” only to come up blank.

While we are at it, can anyone tell me why our bad memories seem to be so much easier to recall than our good memories?

I’d look it up, but I don’t have time.

I had hoped to be done with all the pre-edits by now. Sadly, however, that didn’t happen. Mostly because I forgot how grad school works while I was enjoying winter break and have been slammed for the last 2 weeks trying to adjust to a new schedule and new classes. Then, there’s that whole home school thing I’m involved in.

I suppose I can’t be too upset with myself. I’m still writing (editing) at least 3 times a week. So, I guess that’s at least some progress even if it’s much slower than I imagined. I continue to tell myself that I’d rather take my time and write something I can be proud of then rush through it because I am in a hurry and get published, especially when I don’t even know what route I’m planning on taking when that time comes. Although, I can’t help but be disappointed that my goal of releasing the book on National Coming Out day 2021 appears as though it was a far too optimistic one.

Sigh.

It would have been so poetic.