The Adventure Continues…
One Timeline at a Time
I would love it if the shitty first draft wasn’t so shitty. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll change shitty to outstanding.
My outstanding first draft. Whoa. I like that.
Just like most writers, I’ve spent less time writing than I anticipated. Instead, I worked in a friend’s garden two evenings since my last post. For those of you who do not know, I am still maintaining the nomadic lifestyle and not having dirt of my own is torture!
I kept my hands to myself the first year after selling my home with twenty acres and was able to talk myself off the ledge of reaching into a flower bed to pull the rogue blades of grass making an appearance. I convinced myself the soil must feel really good there and how could I blame the grass and weeds for wanting to grow there, too. Besides, I’d add the internal reminder I didn’t want to offend the gardener. I know how crazy it’d make me when someone pulled a flower thinking it was a weed in my garden.
This past winter was a different story. I found myself stepping inside… And, lookie there, I’ve wandered off topic. Well, kinda sorta. I do want to gloat and embellish on the container garden I have established on the deck (and overflowing into the yard) of the place I’m currently residing. For a gal who got used to cranking up her stabilizer jacks and driving away every one to two weeks, it appears I’ve set roots here until harvest. (Let’s just hope the host doesn’t boot my ass off her property just before the glorious heirloom tomatoes ripen!)
At this moment (and it could change at anytime) there are eight containers of heirloom tomatoes (with names like Atomic Fusion, Mortgage Lifters, Beaver Lodge Slicer, Mountain Magic), one terra cotta pot with summer squash overflowing and climbing up a trellis, four pots of zucchini, sweet peppers, butternut and honeynut squashes, beets, and all my glorious herbs. Like I may have mentioned in previous posts, I’m a garden-aholic.
The wonderful thing is, the gal I’m helping with her garden has a similar (if not more) love for gardening. She understands my need to put my hands in the dirt up to my wrist and feel the sensation of dirt packed under my fingernails. She has given me permission to come over and help anytime I’d like.
All the gardening has been good for my soul as I write the memoir. I’ve been working on the front quarter of the book in layers: what I remember, blog posts, and journal entries. It’s not been easy revisiting the journals. When the emotions get to be too much, I mow the lawn, use the weed whip and trim around what the mower could not reach, and tend to my container garden. I do something physical to break the recycling emotions.
Interestingly enough, I found myself doing the same physical things while copyediting a book for a client. There are elements of her story that bring up familiar emotions. I can confirm the client’s book is going to tug on the heartstring of the readers. Again, I’m wandering off topic.
My trauma-drama-grievin’-momma memory has me looking up and researching timelines. I found myself mixing elements of 2017 in with 2018. For example: when various issues of Elements For A Healthier Life Magazine published, when particular events happened and… oh my! I was simply writing what came to me and wandering all over the place on the pages (see a pattern here?).
I’m back to square one reworking my outstanding first draft and writing better notes in the synopsis and notes boxes of the Scrivener program I’m utilizing. My creative mind is eager to write about the experiences on the highways and trail of tears and giggles I left along the way. One timeline at a time, Cynthia.
Explore the adventures that got me here…
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The Adventure Continues..."Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges from the good old days." -Doug LarsonTimes are definitely changing. No doubt about it. Sunday morning I glanced at the clock above the truck's radio, the time read 11:11. The cell phone said...