A thought provoking post for anyone who have written or plan to write a memoir.
I am in a funk. I know why, I dislike why, and still I am there. I wrote a book, a memoire. I finished it last week. I kept it all to myself and I sat there and stared at it for a few days. I walked away. I tried to ignore it. I tried to reason with myself before I pushed the delete button. I even tried to have a rational conversation with myself and tried to talk myself out of it… but the truth was evident. I had done what I set out to do… and now my need to do it was gone.
The thing is, I have meant to write it for many years. I had a purpose for writing it and I felt as if I actually NEEDED to write it. So I did. I wrote it out, every single word that I felt like…
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