This is not a blog post. This is me hugging my (very rough) first draft. I am feeling odd, kind of vulnerable and flayed even though no-one is going to see it anytime soon. It's going on a shelf for a while, and then I need to reread it and do some more writing. I will need to fix the really drafty places, where the wind blows right through the plywood and chickenwire, and put in some stucco or mortar or something. But! It's a complete first draft for my current purposes. I had to stop looking at it; I had to get it to this stage, where it is quietly self-contained even if there are gaps, notes to myself and outline-y bits that need condensing or deleting.
I'm not planning to do any serious work on the memoir until after NaNoWriMo -- I'm planning to do all new work in November. And I have tasks related to my first novel that need to be done before that. So I may not blog. I might try to stay off Twitter... I find that very difficult, even when the news is as maddening and gross as it has been lately. But I've got an old friend coming to visit, and a trip to the woods coming up, and I need to cultivate a space for new green shoots of fiction writing to begin. Updates here when I have them!
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