The Story So Far…

When I decided to take a year off work to write a book, it felt like a leap of faith. It still does. It’s a risk, but one that, so far, I am so happy I took. I am relishing sitting in the space of my memories. Surprised by what is coming up and wants to get onto the page. It’s not at all as I thought it would be.

Sitting for a whole day, thinking about a challenge, or a family member, or even a dream never realised, is like visiting old friends. There is no sense of urgency. Just time to immerse myself in the victories and failures, the elation and the pain, and everything in between. It is cathartic. But it is not therapy. I am enjoying revisiting these memories from a place of distance.

I feel like I’m meandering through the long unused synapses of my brain to find these memories. Some I haven’t thought about in a long time. Some I’m not sure I knew were still there. And, like a room full of furniture, covered in drop sheets and cobwebs, there is a satisfying delight in revealing what lies beneath. It may not always be uplifting and joyous, but these memories are mine. They are the experiences that have shaped who I am. Even the scary and tragic ones have a familiarity about them I enjoy.

Speaking to Mum and Dad to confirm information, or help blow away the stagnant dust on some of the recollections, is really enjoyable. Speaking and laughing about people and events not thought of in so long makes them come alive again. Just a word of warning to family and friends. I am coming for you…I have a lot of loose ends and gaps in information I need sorted out.

Now, back to writing…