that book, if written, results in a person explained."
When I started the MFA program at Murray State in 2008, a few people asked me if I kept a journal. I don't. I can't, if you really want the truth. I cannot discipline myself to sit down and write every morning or afternoon. A number of my writer friends do that, but I just can't. It's not that I'm lazy, although that could be part of it, but I think it's more that my brain is always jumbled with thoughts and things to do and see and so on.
That said, I do constantly write in my head, and I'll jot words or sentences or thoughts down on the myriad of notebooks I have around the house and in my purse and in my car. I also make notes on my iPhone and iPad an am completely thrilled when I discover them since I've probably long-forgotten I wrote them.
Over the past few days, I've written a few chapters of my book, two of which came from thoughts I scribbled in a notebook months ago. While I'd thought about each of the two for a long time, the notes I'd made about them over the past several months finally came together, and I got the stories out. The first, about my maternal grandmother, asks questions that no one will ever be able to answer. The second, about my paternal grandmother, answers questions I was never able to ask.
This book, which I want to finish as a tribute to Grams (my maternal grandmother), is going to really be two stories, hers and mine. I've come to realize that over the past several months. Finding her story helps me find and understand mine.
So, I'll keep writing in my head, jotting notes around the house, asking and answering questions, and thinking too much.
And that's okay.
Next time: Two Months