This is not a typical birth announcement, but neither is the substance of it.
Recently I gave birth to a memoir that I decided to call Cold Turkey at Nine: The Memoir of a Problem Child. Several earlier posts on this blog show a number of reasons why I was a Problem Child, and some of those tendencies followed me into adulthood. The birth wasn’t painless, but as I’ve learned from other authors, the process I went through was some form of normal. Although I feared that some members of my family would tar and feather me after they read it, fortunately none of them did. In spite of that fear, when I mailed copies to them it felt good to put them in the mail.
As I neared completion of my full manuscript, I knew fairly well what Gloria Swanson meant when I came across her comment, “Writing the story of your own life is a bit like drilling your own teeth.” While painful at times, there was a perpetual struggle with what was and was not relevant to my story. Although I’ll never know with certainty, each decision about the content of my memoir came down to whether parts of it had a bearing on the main thread of the story, and how events and times and circumstances affected the life I know.
With this brief musing on this big event in my life, the birth of my memoir, I will now refer anyone who’s interested to a website with more information about this birth. I’d be honored if you would take a look.
I hope some of you will take heart and write your own unique story. My teeth are in better shape after all that drilling.
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Fast forward now to a few months later. Here’s the image of Cold Turkey at Nine sitting between Custer and God on Austin’s premier independent BookPeople bestsellers table. Months after that, highly positive reviews built up on Amazon.