Happy New Year! I’ve been writing a book. A memoir, if you’re asking me what sort of book it is. Someone once told me that everyone has at least one story to tell but I believe that within the one story there are hundreds or maybe thousands of stories. That is encouraging to me. There is no lack of material. The familiar places you and I visit have seen us clearly.
I don’t know what the vast majority of readers want to read these days. The initial offering of reading material online is typically short and usually provocative. When I look through the popular reading lists, it seems there is a vast world of literature and book publishing out there. I wonder where I might fit in with all that or if I would want to.
When I was still in high school, I had wanted to become a journalist but as I began to look around at the media, I was discouraged. There seemed to be so much hype necessary for stories to be heard and I was not, I am still not, a hype kind of person. I do like the short essay or column form and columnists do not need to tow the line of sensationalism. It helps to have some notoriety in the social-sphere, particularly if you have a cause or a philosophy to promote. I might have a few of these I can pull out of hiding.
I share my writing in blog form and even submit an essay here or there. What is important to me is that my voice is authentic. I am happy to always be finding my voice, because I know the living of years brings change. I would want a reader to “hear” me as my words are read.
Whether or not I finish the bigger work of a memoir, I have come to be completely in love with the part of me that writes. I will always create with words. This has been my outlet since I was a little girl. It didn’t matter then if anyone read what I wrote. Now it matters more.