Fifty ways to leave your lover...err...memoir.
reliquished to only writing four lines a day in my diary
I'm fifty years old but people guess me to be in my thirties all the time, so I'm blessed with good genes and a daughter who colors my hair well. I'm trying very hard to revise a book to be published but making myself sit down and revise every day is getting to be a monumental task. Everything else seems to "need" to be done instead. Groceries, laundry, taxes, rehearsing for opera. Always something. Yet, I've been working on it fairly consistently and have forty-one chapters of a "creative nonfiction" story. What does that mean? The story is based on my life, but I can't say it's my life because the almighty "someone" won't like it.
The rain's pouring out there. The window is black. My boyfriend's working late on a Friday night and I want to be around people but the computer screen will do. I've been staring at the screen fixing phrases and taking out unnecessary words for what seems like decades. Now I've toddled back to the smithmag website and found a venue for rambling. My theatre reviews are all over the web now. That's gratifying. But I want my story to be there too. That's what I've wanted since I was ten.
The New York agent gave me helpful feedback on my first chapter but I'm worried I won't completely get at what she's looking for and she'll write me off and then I'll have to start from square one. At least I know I won't have to go back to the dairy farm in Minnesota and be relinquished to only writing four lines a day in my diary. I get to stay here in Texas and write theatre reviews and paint watercolor commissions and try to spell most of the words right before the proofreader rings my grammatical neck with her "only a few" suggestions here comments that number to a dozen. Now back to chapter seven for a rewrite.
I'll print the next ten pages of my book before 10 a.m. tomorrow morning and share it with a dozen people around banquet tables on the second floor of an art center at a boy's ranch. The coffee's terrible but the critques are excellent and much work goes on in this deceptively simple little room.
Ah, mission accomplished. I'm now motivated to get back to work.