Warning: This post is not for the faint of heart!
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Writing a memoir is a little bit like having a giant welt on your face. Or at least that’s what the universe seems to be trying to tell me.
My mission for this weekend—aside from the usual household chores—has been another round of revisions on my memoir. This is an experimental round in which I dig deeper and disclose a little more about my first marriage. As one fellow writer put it, I’m trying to see how much I’m “willing to bleed” for this book. This conundrum—how much to disclose—has been weighing on my mind all week.
Friday night, I had a breakthrough. Not so much on the book, but on my face. You see, I’ve had this little bump on my left cheek for two years. Two years! Two different dermatologists have looked at it; one said it was probably just a new mole, the other said it was a harmless cyst. And a cyst it was. Lately it had seemed to be taking on a life of its own, like it might get up and walk right off my face. And Friday night, it kind of did. You would not believe the amount of tubular gunk that poured out of my face. It was horrifying yet magnificently satisfying.
On Saturday afternoon, I carved out three uninterrupted hours of writing time. With my little girl in bed and the baby downstairs with my husband, I got some chocolate ice cream—good for courage and creative inspiration—and dug in. Emotions that I hadn’t expressed surfaced. “Can I really write this?” I wondered. I wasn’t sure, but I wrote it anyway.
Release, sweet release. It’s part of the writing—and healing—process. Life never ceases to amaze and challenge me. And if you see me anytime soon, that’s why I’m wearing a Band-Aid on my face.
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I Want to Know
How do you release things that are weighing you down?
Are you a talker, a writer, and/or a stewer (new word: one who lets his or her emotions stew)?
I’m a talker and a writer. The problem is sometimes I say what I want to say before thinking about it so then I may say some things that I’d rather not have said later. Or write, more specifically. Can’t really take an email back, either.
Or a blog post.
Yes, or a blog!
I’m a writer and a stewer.
Why have I never noticed this bump on your face?
You? A stewer?
The bump was skin-toned, so I guess it wasn’t that obvious to anyone but me!
I can’t wait to read your memoir, just gotta say. As for me? I def blog it out!
You are really good at blogging it out!
I release things by usually going on a bike ride, its my main mode of transportation these days, unless I need to go across town, then I’ll take the bus, but if I need to burn off some steam, I’ll go on a bike or some other physical activity. Unless its really serious then I hand write in a journal I keep.
I’m a talker through and through. The few people I’ve grown to trust over a few years in the “real world” after college I can talk through whats going on in my life. And any other sense I talk a lot, and sometimes I have the most fascinating conversations with myself, they usually result in me cracking myself up with a really good joke to myself.
Exercise is one of the best things ever when it comes to thinking things through. I definitely rely on running for that.
I’m glad you’re getting the opportunity to release more, and I’m looking forward to reading your memoir whenever it’s finished. I think I used to be more of a talker, but so much transpired around the death of my father a couple of years back that I would say I release now by going to the beach, driving by the water, or working on something creative.
xo mary jo
I have been thinking about this since you posted. Not as a writer, as a reader. I want you to dig deep and share what is in your heart, even if it hurts you to write it and me to read it. After it is all on paper, then edit what is superfluous and doesn’t further the story. Otherwise it becomes forgettable. When I read a memoir, I want to know what made that person tick. I want to remember what happened and maybe reference that book to other people. I want it to stick. Authenticity sticks.
Thanks for this. I have said more than I thought I could. I will keep reminding myself what you said: that authenticity sticks. You’re right.
I love this. Oh my god—the cyst. I had to read over that a few times because I got such disturbing, yet immense satisfaction from reading about it. I’m so glad it’s all coming out. That’s the way it needs to be.
I love that you read it more than once even though it was disturbing.
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