I got to chat face to face with a new friend this morning about my book. (She’s a voracious, fast reader, and former freelance writer and editor that hates prologues.) -Oops! Lol!
I’m glad I didn’t know any of that when I showed up on her doorstep today…
I rang her doorbell and when she saw me, she squealed, “I’m with you in the runaway shelter right now where the girl steals your money! Oh my god, how much more could you take!? I’m only 87% through! I’m going to finish this tonight!”
Tears floated down her face. She was damn angry. Fired up! Totally disgusted. Sad. In disbelief. Shocked.
“How could anyone treat their kids like that? How can someone allow abuse to break them like that and not be a parent?” We both agreed we just couldn’t wrap our minds around it.
She went right back to the book… She raised her voice in protest! “She was a smart woman! Do you think she knew? She had to know!”
I didn’t know…
She said how much she hated certain characters in the book. “And that Wayne! Ugh! What an asshole!”
She got quiet, happy in the tender parts. She told me I had stirred up emotions she buried deep within and we had “some things” in common.
She said, “I have a friend that wants to write her own memoir and she has vignettes written, but doesn’t know what to do with them.” —“I might be able to help her with that if she wants,” I said.
Then, we went right back to talking about the scenes of my life and just how much they moved her.
“I have a new Sharpie. I want you to sign my book! Keep it… to sign all your other books,” she said.
My husband sat watching. Listening.
Later, he said it was like watching a movie where someone was meeting a new author and now they were armed with excitement and questions and were passionate to discuss the deeper meaning. He felt proud of me. Excited.
I sat there discussing my life from the perspective of a third party observer. And just like that… I realized that while I was in my body, I was finally out of my story. The lost childhood I filed away in a notebook, finally meant something to someone other than me. Fully processed, and now helping others.
I sat there and finally felt like I was a full-fledged author. — I confessed to my husband I was happy and excited, but said, “I just don’t know how happy or excited I am allowed to be?” He said, “Be very.”
So, I’m officially owning “very” happy and “very” excited! After all, I moved someone through a wide range of emotions today. Mine, and theirs. And therefore my job as an author is complete.
P.S. – Authors aren’t supposed to use the word “very.”
#surreal #grateful #healing #memoir #STG #documentlife #bevery
Steel Town Girl for sale on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle e-book.