Hi friends, I say this every year, quietly, to myself, in my journal, to the occasional writing friend. Today I am saying it on the internet: this is the year that I get serious about writing a book.
Only in the last few months has this book taken shape in my mind and I finding that that shape looks a lot like nonfiction.
No one is more surprised than I.
I did not go to school to write nonfiction. I went to school to write fiction. And I may, again, write fiction. But not right now.
This is exciting and terrifying, because when I wrote fiction, I could write about people I know and myself and no one would know, or, even if they did know, I could just say: oh, well, it's not true or anything, it's just fiction. If I'm writing nonfiction, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. If people don't like it, well, that's me.
Most artists struggle with fear (even fiction writers), and I don't personally know of any authors who have been killed by a mob after the publication of one of their books. (If you know of any such incidents, please do not tell me, I don't want to know). I am marching forward, shaking in my boots.
As I begin this part of my journey, the actual writing part, I am finding that my blog might be a good place to find some material to adapt, or even lift intact, into my book. If you have a post which brought you joy, made you think or made you laugh, would you let me know?
You are my readers, all of you, and I simply couldn't do any of this without you. Thanks for coming on the crazy ride with me.