Do you hear what I hear?

Sometimes I think I hear yodeling. It’s like that game from the Price is Right where you guess the cost of something and the little mountain climber guy in lederhosen climbs up for every dollar you’re off and the whole object of the game is to not have him climb so far that he falls to his death at the top. That’s me. I really don’t want to fall off this mountain. So, where am I going with this analogy?

I think I know.

Have you ever been really sure about your ability to do something even though you are struggling to do it? Like each day you grind one more layer off your molars with the effort that you are so painfully yielding? Yet you come back for more day after day because you expect it to be better? Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Or, does it mean you’re determined and goal oriented? Or maybe it just means that dentures are in your future.

I wish I knew.

I have been wanting to write a book for a while but I wasn’t sure what this book would look like. A memoir? A psychological thriller? Something funny? Something heartfelt? What I’ve decided is… (e) all of the above. Can it be done?

I wish I knew.

I watched a master class by David Sedaris and I knew I didn’t have such extraordinary experiences to draw upon nor could I be so brutally honest but God, I love his stuff. I am currently watching Judy Blume’s master class and I already know that I’m not as thoughtful or observant as she. I have a terrible memory so drawing from personal experiences is like fishing through a package of swiss cheese. Every single slice will have a hole in it. So, what kind of writer am I?

I wish I knew.

I have over 10,000 words for a story that hasn’t gone anywhere yet and I have 10,000 paths vying for my attention. Every day I change my mind about a character, a scene and even who’s telling the story. Should it be in 3rd person or 1st?

I wish I knew.

I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter how awful this first draft is because I’m going to edit it and make it extraordinary. I’ll dig deeper, I’ll immerse myself into each character and breathe their air and trim their nails. I’ll settle into their town and learn every shortcut to the market and every restaurant that serves fried cheese curds. I’ll find the best skim latte and the best spot to watch the sunset. It’s going to be good. Really good. I imagine myself becoming a famous author. One who wears fancy shoes and gets professional blow outs. I honestly believe that I can do it but I have absolutely no proof besides this skeleton of a story. No meat. No personality.

But it’s gonna happen. It has to. I promised myself and I promised my husband I would buy him a vacation home with my first big paycheck. When?

I wish I knew.

At the rate I’m going, I may be buying him elder care. But that’s okay too as long as I don’t fall to my death. Yodel-Lay-Hee-Hoo!