I am in the process of editing my memoir, playing around a bit with the structure of it, and deciding which parts to include from this blog. I will likely add in a couple of scenes that I had originally left out, and perhaps remove some pieces that I decide are not relevant.
I plan to finish the edits as we enter into 2016, and begin my search for a literary agent before winter’s end.
I have decided I will do whatever it takes to get this book completely ready for publication, and that is a good feeling. Failure to launch this into the world is not an option for me.
For me, this story began as far back as I can remember. It began with the first memory of being with my mother, a memory that highlights the natural and loving bond I had with her.
Writing the story was much more than putting pen to paper or sitting at the keyboard. It was searching within myself, and reaching out to others that I thought might help solve the mystery of my mother’s absence. It included conversations, both difficult and heartwarming. Most importantly of all, it included reaching out to my mother, the woman who shares my tragedy, but also shares my heart.
As scary as the idea of having this story out there is, not having written it would be far more painful.
I think that when we have a soul wound, we either spend our lives trying to escape from it, or we spend our lives trying to heal it. I have chosen the latter.
And in doing so, I hope to help so many others heal as well, or at least find some hope and comfort in my words. I hope to shed light on parent alienation, for it permeates our society as tragically as a hateful disease, ravaging hearts instead of bodies.
Even through tragedy, somehow love and truth prevail.