Category Archives: Writing

I promise the book won’t be this boring

“1/22/14: Housecleaning. So I did the dishes today, which mainly consisted of filling up the washer and running it. Then I wiped down all the counters. Then I took the stovetop apart and scrubbed it down. I didn’t find the missing rubber pad, but I did find some areas that needed more scrubbing. I used the green scrubby and the crumbs came right off. Then I wiped everything down again with the spray and paper towel. All nice and shiny. I may have missed some spots, but it’s much better than it was.”

Wow. I’m reading back through my journals from a year ago, in an effort to get inspiration and ideas for structuring the book I’m writing.

It’s not going so well.

There is a lot of mundane tedium mixed in, so filtering out the good stuff is proving more challenging than I had hoped. But once I get through reading everything I think I’ll be ready to form a thorough framework or outline for the book, and then I can just start writing. I hope, anyway. This is all very new to me. It’s very daunting, and I have numerous doubts that I can do this. But why not? Why not me? I’ve loved writing for as long as I can remember. This past year and a half life has thrown some major curveballs, and I’ve learned a great deal through all of it. So now I have something to write about. Something hopefully others will want to read. I just have to get the words out. One. Day. At. A. Time.

No, wait. You know what? Maybe I’m getting hung up on all this preparation – structure – outline crap. What if I just started writing? It’s worth a shot, right? Only this time I’ll leave out all the house cleaning details 😉

Baby steps to a book.

I posted the following message on my Facebook wall the day after Christmas. Just six days ago.

“Today I have officially started writing my book. Thank you, Staci, for passing that ‘rumor’ along to our buddy Lyle. Your confidence in me was motivation to get this girl’s butt in gear.”

Of course, not much has happened since then. Which frustrates me to my core. Because I am an unrealistic overachiever, and I set ridiculous standards for myself, not having thought them through. Of course writing a book is an enormous task. I don’t even really know where to start, but that’s mostly irrelevant at this point because –

Hello? Who has time to write a book with two kids home for Christmas break and a new puppy to housetrain??

Okay. Now that we have that cleared up. A book is in process. Baby steps. Or maybe very tiny itty-bitty steps until kids go back to school. Either way, there will be steps.