Rubber and Roads

I’m getting ready to jump off the high diving board this week. All of my dithering about whether or not to engage a book coach went out the window after I talked with Carolyn Flynn. Carolyn is described by KN Literary Services’ Publishing Consultant Sarah Bossenbroek as “one of their most beloved and trusted coaches.” High praise. Well-deserved.

Carolyn and I hit it off as there are similarities in our work backgrounds. She was once the editor of a now-defunct healing-oriented magazine I read and admired years ago called Sage. I immediately entered a secret sisterhood with her discussing the demise of Sage. That magazine was a victim of the rise of online technology platforms and the steady of erosion and support for printed publications. It was a tragedy. There have been many.

As a former fellow journalist, I squelched the temptation to use our time to bemoan the deplorable state of journalism. We pivoted back to the business at hand. But we both feel it. The shared grief over the decline of print and widespread diminished respect for writers and words. I saw that as a good sign.

KN Literary has already sent a draft contract to review. Essentially, it is a commitment to whip this manuscript into publishable shape by an as-yet-to-be-determined late fall date. I am required to write an outline. I thought I might dodge that task as my book is a transitional memoir. No such luck.

So I am bearing down. I discover something interesting every day as I write this blog. What I really think and really feel comes into clearer focus. That, in itself, is a gift. The short but significant journey from confusion to clarity. That clarity makes it easier to choose what to include and exclude from the book. I also realize the value of affirming what matters to me as well as that which is no longer important. I see this sorting exercise will be useful up the road when I have to consider what should stay and what should go in the manuscript.

If I don’t know what I really care about, how will I be able to advocate for it? At one point in my life, I was regularly run over by other people’s priorities and wishes. Even if I knew what I wanted and preferred, I was powerless to express and act on my own instincts much of the time. It is a consequence of deep-seated trauma and terror. Being beyond that and in a place where I own my integrity around my feelings and dreams is light years away from those difficult days.

Growing older means shedding stuff. Ego. Stuff. Abilities. Ambition. Becoming comfortable in our chosen “ruts” and enjoying the comforts of consistency and familiarity. We rein in the extraordinary scope of possibility we had as young adults and then bear down on a chosen path. Life’ll learn ya who you are and what you are made of.

It is a good time to be writing this book. If I’d started earlier there likely would not have been enough material or insight. There would not have been the necessary coda to life chapters I had to pack up and put away. I had not fully tested and integrated the lessons I’d learned for their validity and durability.

I am embarrassed by how simple it all turns out to be. I originally learned the most basic and important rule somewhere around Grade Three. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” And keep your mouth shut until you are asked to offer your opinion or your help. Both of those lessons took a while to take root and fully learn.

So, back to the outline. Rubber is hitting the road. What started out metaphorically as a Sunday drive to see what I might see is turning into a major road trip. Or a life trip depending on how you look at it.

These days, I no longer worry about whether or not I packed everything for the journey. I am confident enough in myself that I know I can pick up along the way what I might have forgotten to pack. That is progress.