It is Thursday, my third day of a five and a half day writing retreat. In the first two days, I revamped the memoir I have been working on for nine years, and I have the draft I have been trying to get to for a long time. I discovered that I had to start with what I had on page 50, and moving that scene to the front made everything else fall into place (or out of the book–I wish I could keep the anecdote about my uncle’s passive aggressive smoking when my aunt had to quit cold turkey after heart attack, but it just doesn’t fit).
So now I am going to do what I said I would do this summer: create a social media platform. I welcome advice, particular advice on Instagram hashtags. I don’t want to go on Twitter. Maybe I could be convinced. A writer I respect swears by it, and she doesn’t seem like what I think of as what seems toxic about Twitter.
I am going to type up some work for this blog. Ironically, I can’t post excerpts from my book manuscript, but hey, there are plenty of good deleted scenes I could post! So much chaff!
Four days ago I didn’t think I could budge my memoir into shape. Now I have the best draft of its long journey. Just because I got to come here, and focus just on this. Amazing.
Patchwork Farm Writing Retreat, Westhampton, Massachusetts