I decided to blog my way through my process for beginning my non-fiction memoir.
Let's start with current events rather than delving through past trauma at the moment.
The month of August has essentially kicked my ass and it is only half way through.
I had a wonderful and productive time at the reader and author gathering I attend every year, Literary Love Savannah. It is my primary author event, so if you ever want to hang out with me, this is the event you want to come to.
The final night of the event, I got hit with COVID. Like that thing knocked me down and out. I got up the next morning, took some daytime cold and sinus meds and drove home. Upon entering my house, I went straight to the bathroom, told my husband to bring the test, and once I took it, I went to bed. He confirmed what I already knew. I don't know if changing some of my behaviors at con would have prevented it, but probably, so I will be listening to that little voice in the back of my head next time rather than thinking I have done all the things. I didn't do one key thing, wear my mask around others, and I got it and probably gave it to people because I got it. Certainly, that is how my husband ended up with it.
On my drive home from Savannah to North Carolina, I spoke with my cousin, Tabbitha. I had no idea as I told her everything would be fine and it is better to be more cautious than not, blah blah blah, that this would be the last conversation I would ever have with her where she could in fact, respond. She had broken her ankle and was having surgery. On Wednesday, I was asleep due to my COVID exhaustion, fever, etc. My sister called and I hate that she had to say it more than once, but I truly could not process what she said.
"She died. There was a blood clot and she died."
I honestly look at that sentence and it seems more fictional than any I have written in my most paranormal, sci-fi, or fantasy stories.
How is that possible? She was in her 40s, has a son in kindergarten. I mean...she was okay aside from the ankle when I spoke with her last. But it is not just possible, it is the truth.
I can't do anything about it.
I can do something.
In an effort to ensure her son knows his mom as he gets older, I have asked for friends and family to send me their fun memories, stories, whatever positive and uplifting stuff that kid should know about her. I plan to collect them into a book that I will give to him once it is completed.
Many years ago, I was a small press author and the publisher was closing. We got our rights back, but previously published work was near impossible to get published again. Tab joined me and my friend and fellow author with this predicament, Stella and we formed Tease Publishing LLC. Tab did the accounting as neither Stella nor I wanted anything to do with the math. We had that company for several years and as indie publishing grew, we knew it was time to let go of it. We transitioned everyone's rights back to them, let them keep the art work we purchased or made, and then we closed that chapter with our reputations intact.
Her son needs to know stuff like that. That she was an advocate, a small business woman, a skateboarder, and so much more throughout her life that he won't know or can't really process or appreciate right now.
So my non-fiction journey is apparently building two pieces. One for me and one for him.
Join me. If you would like to share your experience with writing your non-fiction work, please drop a comment or send me an email. It would be great to have more than just my perspective on the blog.
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