You see the right thing to do would be to write this piece, edit it, and send it out.
However, I am compelled to visit the wrong thing. I will not and cannot edit this piece. So if you’re anyone like my husband who cringes at grammar mistakes, bear with me because my desire to edit a dang piece of writing ANY LONGER has gone right out the door.
I don’t entirely understand how people make a career out of long-form writing. Sure, my draft is “finished” and my editor is waiting for me to hand the damn thing over to him once and for all. But I just can’t. Not yet. All that is to say, here is where I reside.
The beginning is BALLER. I mean I utterly impressed myself in knowing how to start this thing. The writing itself is unlike anything I’ve written before. It’s speaking from a stream of consciousness, setting the reader up to understand what shaped me and giving context behind the decisions I made. The appeal to me comes from my adoration of exploring my upbringing, and diving even deeper than that, making sense of my Irish heritage. Anyhow, I am well pleased with the start and I hope you will be too.
The middle/body of the book is GARBAGE. I don’t even know where I’m going with it. Is there a point in excavating people from my past? My husband says, “Well it is a memoir after all…” meaning, of course, people from my past will be exposed, hopefully in a kind light. Certainly, that is my prayer. But seriously, is there a point in exposing my old crush? Allow me to settle your heart in knowing that my rad husband knows every little detail about my life, so there is nothing known in there for him to be electrically shocked by. As for me, does it matter that I bring up this dude that broke my heart once upon a time? How is this tied to the over-arching theme of the story, which I will withhold from you since I’m assuming if you’re reading this, you’ll read my book one day. Okay, it just hit me, I know it’s useful. I’ll keep it until my editor says to dig that s*** out and never look back. Is it bad that I’m hoping he’ll ask that of me?
Anyway, reading through and editing the middle of this is like walking through five miles of thick mud up to my knees, naked and alone. Let me tell you something about long-form writing, it’s much more crafted than we think. My writing style is far better on this platform than in my book. They’re 100% different styles and part of me wants to just take my writing on here, the writing you’ve been reading, and paste it in my dang book, publish it and call it a dang day. But I cannot and shall not. Why? Because, here, I’m exploring with you, probably giving you all kinds of advice that I don’t even live out myself (still working on that). In the book, I’m telling a story. A story that has already taken place. A story that needs only facts, never fiction. If I, so as, fabricate a word of this memoir, I will forever live as an imposter. An imposter who added to her story in order to enhance it and impress her readers, knowing all along that shit didn’t actually ever take place. CouldI live with that? Well, I cannot.
You must be thinking this chick is way too hard on herself. Isn’t every artist? Not even an artist, isn’t every person? We all question ourselves on the daily. Are we doing enough? Are we adding enough purpose and meaning and love to this stirred up world? Did I just lie through my teeth to that person in order to be liked? I should be somewhere else in life. But where should I be? Is swearing bad? Maybe I' should stop. This leads me to, is it bad that I swear in my pieces and in my book? If it gets my point across in a more visceral manner then I’d argue that it is not bad. However, some of the Christians around town would probably argue it as bad. But, like I’ve told you before, I am still a Christian, yes, but probably a f****** up one at that. Whoops, sorry.
Thank goodness, for Substack. Thank goodness for you who holds me accountable and allows me to vent out my angst over the inner workings of this book. I am thankful for you who reads my pieces even if it hurts. Thanks to those who notice, who take me as I am, and never try and turn me into something other than me.
Pray that the body of this book would take proper form.
As for you, I’ll pray that you would remain you, unedited and unashamed.
XOXO,
Kelly.
We hold so tight to the pristine fantasy of who we can be that we forget the raw, unedited pieces are the really good stuff. This is a good reminder.