Thursday, June 14, 2007

Writing my memoirs

Goddess help me, I want to write a book. I have thought about writing a book about my life for years but I just have tons of excuses why I haven't. When I write it in my head I realize that there are many MANY things in my life that I would die of embarrassement if any of my family read it. I mean really bad shit. There's also the fact that my grammer is atrocious, I specialize in run-on sentences and most of my life would bore the fuck out of most people.

So why do I want to write a book? I do a lot of reading. On occasion, I'm reading along and I think "I would write something better than this crap!" I would be incredibly witty, (you would laugh out loud) and have multiple deep thoughts that you would want to pass along to your daughters. Oh, who am I kidding, I fantasize about writing a book that becomes hugely popular and I make so much money, I can hire people to clean my toilets and I have shoes that cost more than my washer and dryer! I've been a millionare wanna be forever. Seriously, you wouldn't believe some of the shit I have done to try and make money, short of selling my body. And I probably would have done that if I'd have a body worth selling. Nobody wants a piece of this cottage cheese.

For a while, the book was going to be about my first marriage which was blindingly awful. My first husband mentally abused me which I didn't discover until I was out of the marriage. He left me for my best friend (yeah, no friend), otherwise, it would have dragged on for a few more years, I have no doubt. Serious Sally Jesse Raphael shit. I decided that I would write a book so that other women in hopeless marriages would have the courage to move on. I would let women know that divorce is not the life ending choice everyone makes it out to be. That life is too short to be miserable and stuck with some you hate. I went so far as to make an outline, and take some notes on some really terrible memories. Like the time he locked me out of the house when I was 9 months pregnant just because he was pissed that I was gone when he woke from his nap. Or the time he berated me to the point of tears because I took a different route home from work and had a car accident. How about when we bought a new car for me to drive, he ended up wanting it all to himself, so he removed the spark plug wires or something so I couldn't drive it when he wasn't home (that was before he took the keys from me).

For now, I'm thinking maybe a book loosely based on my past experiences but...enhanced.

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