It’s official. I’m writing my memoir. It feels like a daunting task. The first draft alone involves scraping and fact-checking my own memory, writing events down coherently, and then trying to find a sensible order to it all.
I think I have my themes solid. And I think I have a final outline.
I hesitate because, like cliff climbing, the path you think you’re going to take invariably ends up not being the one that gets you to the top.
And I’m aiming for the top!