I started to write something that resembles a book….
One of the many things I wanted to be when I was younger was a writer. That particular ambition was deterred by the forced relocation to the US and the need to master a whole new language. Teachers were not interested in ideas and the expressions of them. They only cared about correct grammar and punctuation.
It’s alright, I found other ways to tell you tales.
When I was 20 years old, my then “psychic” boyfriend woke up one morning and told me I needed to write an autobiography (the directive came from above). I laughed and said, “this life has been interesting but I am not sure anyone would want to read it, also at 20 years old, is that not a little presumptuous?”
Ten years later, I hit the road with a broken heart, two backpacks and a desire to get lost and write.
The writing forced an incredible amount of introspection on an already introspective being. I had to get really honest with myself about everything. Being brutally honest with myself about choices and failures was not that easy, nor was revisiting my feelings to experience them again and again until I was no longer a prisoner of war. In the short span of ten years, I suddenly had a life that might be worth writing about, or at least full of experiences that are worth sharing.
I brooded for a long while over putting forth the writing into anything coherent, under the excuse that the premise is too similar to Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love. It too is about leaving a life behind, broken hearted and traveling. Then I was concerned about how the various men who appear in the book would feel about our intimacies described in detail and shared publicly. But none of those reasons are truly why I hesitated for so long…. I wasn’t sure if I wanted my life to be this public, this confessional. I didn’t know if I was okay with being this naked in front of you. Then a friend said, if it didn’t matter, why write it? If it didn’t ring true, then why bother. The truth with any art is that we put our whole life into it.
I offer you the beginning of Catch Me if You Can, a Committement-Phobe’s Guide to Traveling the World As a Single Woman.
Read on and tell me what you think.
My friend Rachel and copy editor (for all of those pesky grammar corrections) edited out the more descriptive sex parts that were originally part of the book. I am sticking with her decisions in this draft but would love to hear your feedback on any and all aspects of the book.
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Related Links:
Forgive Yourself
What Oingo Boingo Taught Me When I was 16
Darkness and Light
