The Book – i hated it

Hey everyone! I hope everyone is keeping ok? You have started reading how my book came to be in my STORY POSTS, those are my journey, the bulk behind the book…

 The post you are now reading is the physical journey of the book itself…

Ok so first off to kick start the making process I needed to dig out all my old notebooks, a task in itself! I have so many of them and other bits of writing scattered everywhere. During this I found old diaries dating back to being age 10, it Was an interesting read and I actually discovered I knew I was gay earlier than I remembered, so it was very educational in the end.

I began reading through them, over and over, marking entries and sections of text I liked. At this point I didn’t have a clear idea of what I wanted to achieve, I just knew I didn’t want to waste my words, letting them sit in dust in old notebooks, forgotten and pointless.

The reading process was horrendous, page after page of the past, my past, in one sitting. To revisit my hurt and pain, the faces I no longer see and the times I no longer have, to read about my own happiness and my own selfishness, reading my own words about situations I now see through different eyes was tough, but also crazy, to see just how much I’d developed as a person over the years.

I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do with it all, I thought about just throwing some together and creating a typed version of my notebooks, very sex and the city, when Carrie turns her columns into a book, so that’s what I started doing. it was perfect, I’d recreate my diary for all to read. I started writing out my already written pieces of text onto paper I could actually arrange into an order, imagine the scene, 20 notebooks piled all over my bedroom floor, sheets of lined paper constantly being shuffled into new piles, scrunched up and then thrown to the other side of the room! But I kept on and I actually had what I thought was a good direction.

 

I worked on my idea for a couple of weeks, a wedge of my favourite pieces I’d already written out sat in a folder in my draw. I picked it up and began reading through it again with a fresh mind after a few days break…

page after page of random text…

It didn’t work…

I hated it.

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