Ah, the power of accountability if only to oneself.
Out of frustration one day, I wrote down my mental roadblocks about the memoir I had finally completed. It forced me to review how I got to those roadblocks, to ask myself questions, and to think of a course of action. Before I knew it, I had a story that would likely resonate with other writers. I called it Word in (Endless) Progress and it was accepted for publication in WordWorks, the magazine of the Federation of British Columbia Writers. Before it was even distributed, I had the solution to my then conundrum. Because I wrote about it.
After five years of gestation, my memoir has come into its own. It is ready to leave me, and I to let it go. Hence this website gives it a home. It has been a demanding yet positive journey.
Hesitation and confusion, doubts and doldrums, early-morning and late-night writing, it was a friend at times and foe at others. It’s a narrative that put me through the mill. There is a reason for that. It’s the story of a friendship but also of a loss. And as a memoir, it wasn’t complete until a cathartic epiphany revealed itself. Because a memoir is the work of introspection, of searching for the unfiltered subconscious truth, and of reckoning.
More about it soon!