I recently had an idea about writing. Not blogging, exactly, but writing the story inside your head that needs to be told. To be written out, word for word.
I’m in the process of writing a book; a memoir, of sorts. It is the story of me, told in the third person, in a child’s voice.
Why child’s voice?
Because I got very, very sick when I was 7. So sick that I almost died. And the thoughts, the internal voices that went on inside my head at the time, they are alive and well and seem to want to get out of my now adult brain.
At the time, I lived in a small city just outside of Zurich, Switzerland. My mom is Swiss, her family lives there, and I spent my formative years in her home town. Even though I was born in Canada, I spent ten years of my childhood in Switzerland, speaking the language, learning the customs, appreciating the cuisine (namely cheese and chocolate. Ha.)
I started writing my memoir several years ago and then stopped. If you have experience with writing, you know that this sometimes happens. Since no one is paying me and I have no deadline to speak of, I seem to have a very laissez-faire attitude toward this project of mine. I seem to be missing something: internal propulsion, maybe.
I did send my started, first draft, unfinished manuscript to a variety of friends and family to read a couple of years ago. I needed feedback, and some of what I received was phenomenally helpful.
But, as these things go, I lost my thread. My oompf. Life got busy, stuff happened, things distracted me, and the manuscript is sitting there wondering what’s up.
But the child’s voice, my voice, keeps creeping into my brain.
So a year or two ago I started writing short stories that reflected partly about that time in my life, but might have happened to my sister instead of me. Or I embellished some things, just to practice the voice.
Then there was the time when I sent out a few of the stories for publication in newspapers or magazines, which got rejected by…I can’t remember whom now. I’d have to consult with my list in my spreadsheet which I buried somewhere in my email backup folder.
I have a list of articles and stories I submitted, half-heartedly, to various publishing venues. Most ignored me, some responded that ‘at this time we are not yada yada bla bla blah’…you know the drill.
It barely affected me.
This surprised me, because I don’t usually take rejection well. I usually take rejection personally (because I’m 22 and I don’t know any better….). 😛
(I’m not 22…, nor do I want to be 22 again.)
I then thought I could submit some of these stories, practicing the voice of my memoir, to a bunch of contests.
Nothing happened. Whatever. Contests schmontests.
Then, it hit me. Perhaps I should just take matters into my own hands. Eh?
What do you think, you writers out there?
If I write a bunch of stories in the same voice of the little girl in the memoir, and self-publish them on Amazon or Amazon Kindle or whatever, using CreateSpace or something of that nature, maybe I could get some feedback to help me get my oompf back and finish the story? Get my memoir written, finally?
I just don’t know what to do.
But at least I’m thinking about it again, after that long dry spell.