A Little Ugly Truth About My Book and Blog

I started blogging over two years ago and, until this past week, haven't missed a week. It's been two weeks since I posted a blog and that one a guest blog. The week before was a republished article.

The truth is, I'm just not feeling it these days. I finished my book a year ago and haven't touched it since. So, it's not exactly finished-finished. It was finished enough to pass as an MFA thesis. It was approved by much better writers than me. It went through professional edits. But, it isn't in the condition I want it to be.

And all that kind-of stinks because I have an agent waiting to read my book - and I don't want to hand it over. I want to fix dozens of things (yes, I have a list) and add several scenes. But, without the 30 pages/month requirements I once had, writing tends to fall to the bottom of my to-do list.

I'm letting my dreams slip away. It's depressing and overwhelming and even embarrassing.

Most people have long since stopped asking me about my book. So, in case anyone out there is wondering: my book hasn't changed in a year. It's sort-of finished. Good enough to earn a terminal degree and qualify me to teach undergraduates. But not good enough to show the world.

And that ties in with this blog - I won't publish excerpts of my book here because that's a rip off to anyone who eventually reads the book. 

And I'm a bit weary of writing about the Followers. Honestly, they bore me. What's left to say? I'm tired of hearing from community members (and current members) about them sneaking their children (and themselves) to medical clinics. Good for them for doing the right thing. Bad for them for being too chicken to admit it. We're all hypocrites in some way, I suppose.

I'll write something next Sunday. Probably.

How I Feel About My Book

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate that it makes me cry to relive bad memories. I hate that it makes me cringe to tell about the stupid mistakes – big and small – that I’ve made. I hate that it brings back feelings of resentment toward certain people; people I have tried so hard to forgive – and certainly forget – are brought back to life in the pages of my book. I hate that it is documented proof of my sinfulness. And, I’m so tired of rereading it and rewriting it. I can’t wait to move on.

I love it. I love it. I love it. It is a major accomplishment to have written my first book - a lifelong dream. I have worked hard on it. It is cathartic to have worked through issues from my past.

I worry about it. A lot. I worry about the reactions of the people I know and love when they read it. I worry about my kids reading it someday. I worry about hurting people with my words. And I worry about how people will judge my life.

But in the end, it is what it is. I have changed the names of the vast majority of people in the book – even my own family members. If people judge me for my decisions, that’s okay. I can live with it. If someone is a true friend, they will stand beside me, despite my imperfections.

I will continue to blog and will begin a new book as soon as I’m finished editing this one.

Thank you for reading.