The other night I was talking with my husband and I mentioned that sometimes it felt like I’m the only person on WordPress who hasn’t published a book, or is trying to publish a book, or is trying to sell their book, or is trying to work on a book.
He looked up from what he was doing and said, “You could write a book, you could do a self-published ebook on Amazon.”
“And what if your mother found out?”
“You have a point.”
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, inconsistently keeping personal journals, writing stories, and documenting the mundane. I haven’t written much in a journal since I got married (although I have maintained a blog of our assorted adventures with some regularity). After I had Kid1, the sleep-deprived cycle I fell into was not conducive to writing in a journal, I was having thoughts I did not feel comfortable putting on paper.
My story writing has also fallen by the wayside. I used to write simply impossible futuristic stories about clones and assassins, bizarre fantasy stories about the dragons and unicorns war with the dwarfs, and fatalistic the messiah-is-coming-esque tales of a few “chosen” ones on a boat that never really got anywhere. I don’t think fiction is the right genre for me.
In college any writing other than writing-for-necessity was generally put aside, there were a few exceptions, but by and large I stuck firmly in the realm of academic drudgery. After I got engaged, we started a blog for our friends and family to introduce ourselves (we’re rather spread out), and to keep them updated with goings on, and our new adventures in married life, this has since spread to include what the kids are up to.
Most of my writing these days is on twitter, or on this blog. It never really occurred to me to write a book about my experiences and adventures leaving Christian Science. I’m not sure I want to.
Publishing a book makes all this real. It means putting my name on it, telling my mother and mother-in-law. It means that Principia will find out. It means the people I grew up with will find out. It means all the Church Ladies will find out.
I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
A blog? So what, there are hundreds of thousands of blogs out there, so one of them happens to sound a little like my experiences, surely it is a coincidence. A blog could just disappear into the vastness of the internet, perhaps they got the URL wrong.
A book is still a little too solid. I don’t want to publicly attach my name with CS and the associated atrocities. CS books tend to take one of two turns: 1) the super-researched picking apart of Ms. Eddy/the movement/prayer for healing/death of children route, or the 2) read about my woe-is-me horror-filled childhood. There are plenty of #1, and #2 wasn’t my childhood.
Perhaps I can write a fictitious memoir.