Let’s talk goals. I want to cook more, thus the slow cooker/crockpot as I mentioned a few days ago. It’s still in its box.I bought the ingredients needed for corn potato chowder, so I’ll get to that this weekend. We’re supposed to get 2-4 inches of snow today (downgraded from 4-7, per usual), and a chowder would be perfect for this weather.
1. My memoir. I have been trying to write this ever since I got out of the hospital. The problem is that I get bogged down in the history of my family and all the dysfunction. It’s hard to know what to include and what not to include. The problem is that I can’t talk about my medical crisis without including that. It’s the context needed. But it’s so complicated.
Here’s the thing. As traumatic as my medical crisis was, it really…wasn’t. What I mean is that on the daily, it didn’t really hinder me. My parents were here and my mother cooked, did the laundry, and cleaned Shadow’s litter. Those were the three things I–I could have done them, but it was just easier not to. To be brutally honest, though I would much rather have struggled to do those than to have my parents here.
This is mostly what the memoir is going to be about. I feel like it’s bait-and-switch, though. If the memoir is supposed to be about my medical crisis, then that’s what it should be about. However, it’s just not that interesting. I mean, the event itself was shocking and a once in a lifetime experience.
My time in the hospital was also wild and something that is hard to explain. I was delusional the whole time because I was high on very strong drugs. At least one chapter if not more will be about my experiences in the hopsital.
I feel like I want to start with that day. I mean, what else matters, really? Plus, it makes a banger of an intro. What a hell of a start, really. Me dying twice and being in a coma for a week. It doesn’t get much more high octane than that.
Then again, do I want to just throw readers into the deep end like that? Well, yes. That tends to be my style. Just get the big stuff out of the way. Plus, it’s a bit of a flex to hit them with a ‘yeah, I died. What of it?’ start.
It’s difficult because my brain is very much do its own thing. Things make sense in my head, but I can’t necessarily explain them to other people. It’s frustrating as fuck. I can make the logical connecttion in my brain, but not on paper or in words.
It was the same in math. I could do things in my head that the teacher wanted me to write on paper. It really bothered me because it was simple shit like multiplication or addition. He was a terrible teacher and everyone hated him. He killed my love for math.
This is my priority in 2024. Write my damn memoir. Finally. I have started it so many times, but then I just give up. i want a decent worknig draft by the end of the year.