Sorry, I haven’t been posting much of late. It’s not that I’m not writing, but the piece I’m working on is taking a while.
This whole ‘writing your memoirs’ thing requires waiting – waiting for the fog of memory to clear so I can see back forty years ago. In order to describe stuff I have to see clearly what it looks like. Imagine trying to listen in to a conversation going on in 1965! Could you please repeat that?
I’m trying, not very successfully, to write about the stuff I just breathed in – the color of the sidewalk on a foggy morning, what the streetcar sounded like as it lumped through the tunnel under Twin Peaks.
Then there is the whole part about digressions. I open little doors and interesting thoughts fly out and I follow them and realize I’m not getting anywhere. So I have to backtrack.
And there’s the whole depressing realization that I haven’t really captured what I was trying to capture and I have to shut down and wait till I slept on it.
I like writing about my early life. I’m convinced the people I knew and the things I saw are worth writing about. But it just takes longer than the other things I like to write about. So I’m not posting much.
Come back to check, okay? I’ll be up again soon. And, hopefully, it’ll be anygood….
Photo credit: Flickr: Photos from pbo31
Labels: Won’t Fit In Box