Monday, February 8, 2016

Muddling Memoir: Confession

I began the Muddling Memoir series on November 16, 2015 thinking I'd track the writing of my third memoir from beginning to end. But here's my confession. In the last thirteen weeks I've spent more time focused on process than on memory. An avoidance mechanism, I fear, because I cannot say that all these memories are happy ones. But all I learned and experienced in the process, made every moment worthwhile. Made me who I am today.

They are memories of a young woman trying to find her way alone in Mexico City in the 1980s. The memories of a young woman searching for self and love. A young woman who felt more comfortable in a foreign culture, speaking a new language than in her own.

I will likely return to this series with updates from time to time on the progress, but for now I need to take a break from this self-imposed weekly post schedule. I need to shift my focus from describing and analyzing the process to engaging in the process of writing memoir. I need to write. 

Book marketing gurus tell writers we need to blog on a weekly basis to build readership. With less than a thimbleful of knowledge about marketing, I cannot argue with that. They also tell us that getting out the next book is essential. One of the realities most writers face is the challenge of prioritizing such contradictory activities within the limitations of the 24-hour day.

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Prior posts in the Muddling Memoir series: 
La Flor de Noche Buena

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