I’m sitting here at my desk with a ton of work to do, chiefly among them, finishing the sample chapter for the next book. Or rather, starting. Because while I’ve laid out the bones of what it’s going to cover and the order in which it’s going to cover it, I’m having a really hard time putting fingers to keyboard. Instead, I’ve been doing busy work – other projects that certainly need to meet a deadline, but this is something that I was supposed to have done two weeks ago. And I have to admit that I’m scared to write this one.
read more ↓Actually, I’m scared to write the next two books, but one thing at a time. The next book is personal – just as personal as Sexography, really, though Sexography goes in a different direction than this one does. But still. It’s a facet of my life that I talk about in snippets and sound bites – it’s nothing I discuss at major length with a lot of people, and the few people I do discuss it with are trusted friends who are either in the same boat or have known me since I was yea high.
Honestly, I don’t understand what’s scaring me about this one. What’s so hard about making that commitment to sitting down and spewing? I know I don’t have writer’s block – I just cranked out 7500 words about the trip to Helsinki (which is going in the book after this one), did three articles for AOL, started on some corporate work…
Maybe what it is is the fact that I’m going back 10 years in my life to a period of time that wasn’t so great, and bit by bit describing the things that helped me get it to a point where it is now – where it is great. It was one thing to relive it in the context of Sexography, but this one is different. In ways it’s more personal, in others it’s less… and I think part of that is I’m more connected now, and able to see the pathway a bit clearer – and also where I have to take responsibility, which can suck. I mean, I’d rather take the responsibility and learn from it so I can move on, but sometimes looking back when it’s something I have to write about makes it harder. Then I really have to look at the path and be brutally honest about it.
Switching gears a little... There was a moment in Helsinki where we were having an afterparty of sorts in one of the hotel rooms after they kicked us off the outdoor patio. It was me, Colleen, two of the corporate chicks, one invited guest and one corporate client, all downing bottles of wine and playing a spirited round of Group Therapy, except I was throwing in some Been There, Done That for good measure. There was one woman in our circle that reminded me so much of myself four years ago that often times I felt like I was looking in a mirror from a wayback machine. She’d say something about herself, I’d call her on her shit, and she’d say, “I hate you. I mean, I love you, but I hate you!”
And she said, “You’ve been through this, haven’t you?”
And I nodded.
And she said, “You should be a therapist.”
Ah, but I already am – for myself. Call it navel gazing if you will, but I recognized a while ago I’m of no use to anyone – not employers, not lovers, not friends, and most of all, not to myself – if I’m not functioning as best I can. So I analyze, and I make my connections, and I draw my conclusions, and I rip things apart and put them back together again, all because it helps me. It helps me connect to myself, to others. It helps me be better in every sense of the word. But goddamn, does it get exhausting.
I sometimes wonder if life would’ve been easier if I hadn’t started my navel gazing – if I’d continued to bury my head in the sand, pretending like everything is fine and the storm exploding over my head would go away if I ignored it for long enough. And I suppose in some contexts ignorance could be bliss, but eh. From the moment I stuck my finger in my birthday candle at age one, I’ve never been one to do things the easy way.
So therein lies… right Colleen? It’s the process. It’s the process of sitting down and explaining to you everything that I’ve experienced and how I experienced it, and how it all came together in the end. It’s one thing to go through it, it’s another to put it all down on paper in great detail in a way that you will understand, or be able to apply it to your own experiences, or pick it apart and figure out what works and what doesn’t. And ultimately, that’s why I write this kind of stuff – because if what I’ve done can help 100, 10 or even one of you, that’s pretty damn cool. And if not, at least I’ve exhausted the subject to the point where I no longer want to talk about it. (Seriously – nobody ask me about sex anymore. I can’t take it.)
Alright, that’s enough time wasting. Off I go. It’s just you and me, Chapter One.
(BTW, for those of you making fun of me for losing my voice and leaving messages on my cell and home phone laughing at me, your time will come. And when my voice returns, you will get an earful. You will rue the day. I’d laugh maniacally, but, you know, I don’t have a freakin’ voice.)
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