Blank Pieces of Paper.
As I sit here trying to organize the millionth version of my manuscript outline, I make a interesting connection between my writing and my life.
When the going gets tough, the not-so-tough pulls out a blank sheet of paper and starts again.
Really. I keep re-writing not only my story on paper but also my story in person.
Let me explain. When a relationship gets really hard, or I am starting to feel a little too vulnerable, I scrap it. I say, “This is going to hurt. But it’s for the better.” I end it and start over.
When living somewhere for too long makes me itchy, I move. That pattern was decided for me in my upbringing. I use the excuse that I have no choice, except for the fact that I am a grown woman now and I do have a choice. But being where I am now for almost two years, I can’t wait to get the fuck out.
I had a bunny and I couldn’t bear to see him caged all day so I gave him away. Problem solved right?
I avoid lots of important topics in my therapy sessions because I would just rather we run out of time so that I can come back in the next week and…..you guessed it….START OVER!
And now I am rewriting my book, my memoir, my story, over and over and over and over thinking that “the next time will be better!”
This is also how I approached dieting for ten years. Even when I was twelve, every Monday meant a new chance to start over.
But it’s just running away, it’s not healthy.
The best thing for me to do is take what I have (on paper and in real life), and work with it. I have all the right things in front of me. If I can’t make a good memoir out of 232 pages of writing that’s already done, then I better quit writing and START OVER with a new career! (Kidding. Writing is the one lover I won’t ever leave.)
Alright, enough metaphors. This Frankenstein outline needs tending to!