Over the last ten years I've been trying to write a book. I always intended for it to be somewhat autobiographical but not a completely actual story of my life kind of thing. I figured there must be someone out there in the world who would find a crazy American who turns Muslim vegetarian living the ex-pat life in Egypt raising 5 young kids mostly on her own and without the aid of alcohol to be kind of funny. But everything I tried to get on paper seemed to come out kind of stilted and robot-like. Maybe that was due to the name-changing and trying to protect the innocent (or guilty.) You know, where I sort of lost touch with the main character because she didn't seem like me anymore.
So a couple of days ago I sat down and screamed at all the kids to leave me alone. I was not "Mommy" anymore. Mommy left for a sabbatical and I was now to be called "Genevieve DuBois" and then told them all to go to bed. I typed my brains out. It didn't take long. Well, really, it didn't seem like it took long. I wrote for about four hours. And all of it's completely non-fiction. I just got motivated re-reading my post on MY HERITAGE and decided "Hey, my life has been REALLY interesting. Being an Army brat and having attended 15 schools in 12 years (yes, that is in fact true), I really might have something to offer the world in the world of literature. Well, maybe something to offer the world of paperback books kept in the basket of bathroom reading material, anyway." And so I wrote and wrote.
I've gotten about 13 pages done in a couple of nights. It's quite anecdotal and probably something that any military brat can relate to. (Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition. Get over it.) I'm hoping to pound out rest of it in the next few weeks before I start my usual practice of "Death by Editing." As most artists are their own worst critics, I can make any draft bleed a horrible death of red ink editing and re-editing. But at least I'm writing again. And hopefully I'll actually publish this time around.
So a couple of days ago I sat down and screamed at all the kids to leave me alone. I was not "Mommy" anymore. Mommy left for a sabbatical and I was now to be called "Genevieve DuBois" and then told them all to go to bed. I typed my brains out. It didn't take long. Well, really, it didn't seem like it took long. I wrote for about four hours. And all of it's completely non-fiction. I just got motivated re-reading my post on MY HERITAGE and decided "Hey, my life has been REALLY interesting. Being an Army brat and having attended 15 schools in 12 years (yes, that is in fact true), I really might have something to offer the world in the world of literature. Well, maybe something to offer the world of paperback books kept in the basket of bathroom reading material, anyway." And so I wrote and wrote.
I've gotten about 13 pages done in a couple of nights. It's quite anecdotal and probably something that any military brat can relate to. (Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition. Get over it.) I'm hoping to pound out rest of it in the next few weeks before I start my usual practice of "Death by Editing." As most artists are their own worst critics, I can make any draft bleed a horrible death of red ink editing and re-editing. But at least I'm writing again. And hopefully I'll actually publish this time around.
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