In other news I got an acceptance to The Literary Burlesque. A tiny bit of microfiction that no one seemed to like except me. I’ll post a link when that’s ready.
I finally got my website updated. I’m considering adding a free things to read area. Downloads maybe. I’m not really sure yet.
There was something else I wanted to talk about. I’ve been sitting here trying to remember and of course it was right on the tip of my tongue.
Despite some misgivings of the writerly emo type, I’m plugging away at The. Book. I just completed a few essays and am thinking I have about 6-7 more to write. One in particular just killed me to write. I didn’t want to remember just how bad the bullying was during the time I was writing about.
For years I actively blocked a lot of it from memory. At some point I had to stop writing that essay and think about it. Did I want to tell people these things? Do I want people to know that I was suicidal and so shut down I couldn’t tell anyone?
Was I just engaging in pain porn?
I took some time and decided that it’s not pain porn. I’ll make it part of the Stay Alive portion of essays because I am fucking proud that I stayed alive. I’m proud that despite being hurt by peers and adults. Despite being abused by people I didn’t know for reasons entirely out of my control I made it.
There are some things I’ve chosen not to write about because I’m not ready to share. There are things I have a hard time discussing even with my best friend of more than a decade. I’m still a little afraid that people will find out certain things and hate me for them.
I know it’s irrational. I know that most of this is because I still haven’t dealt with those things. I haven’t yet figured out how to talk about without breaking myself apart. I’m not yet the kind of memorist who can break myself and share it with the world.
Maybe someday but not now.
As of right now I just finished essay six of the brand spanking new ones. I’m hoping to finish one of the painful ones today and then I need to do some fiction work.