I recently began a project, to write a book. With more than 10 pages writ, I feel like I have a path to follow. Not an entirely clear one, but I don’t want that anyway.
The act of writing has to be one of discovery for me. Not to sound magical, I just mean that writing within a structured outline and plan removes a lifeblood sort of spontaneity from my writing. It’s the adventure of the writing that interests me, not the conclusions.
I know what I want to address. My subject, if we want to enclose it, is family. My family, and the misconceptions, confusions, and disappointments that have occurred within it.
The book, tentatively titled Documented in Time, shall be autobiographical. I hope to avoid the merely personal, arguing with ghosts. It shall be ‘my story’, with full knowledge that objectivity is impossible. Tangents, yes. Extraneous filigrees of personal detail, I hope not.
Anyway, I have yet to enter into anything painful, just establishing a foundation. I am prepared for the pain but let’s don’t get heroic sounding about it. Having a project such as this, that will take time, excites me. Days Poem was a daily grind for 14 months. Dunno how long this will take. I would almost wish to hie off to an artist colony to give this that sort of intention. On the other hand, keeping writing part of everything else seems important. If I manage to write something most days, great. If I can add 2 or more pages in a day most days, great.
