In two weeks in July, I wrote a book. I tried to compile my blog entries into a reasonable facsimile of a book, but I couldn't make it work, so I started over and wrote from the beginning, using this blog and another old journal to help me keep my timeline straight. While my kids and husband were out of town, I woke up every day and poured myself a glass of diet Pepsi and vodka and I sat outside and wrote. I laughed. I cried. I called people I hadn't spoken with in years to fact check what I was writing and to thank them, for all the large and small things they did that enabled Karl and I to get together and stay together. Karl came home after dropping the kids off with his parents and I explained to him that while we could date, I needed to continue to spend most days sitting outside and drinking vodka and writing.
I don't advocate starting every day with vodka, nor with continuing to drink vodka as the words tumble out, but that is what I did and it worked and I wrote. I couldn't drink too much, of course, or my writing wouldn't be any good. I was also wary of my writing process, because my dad is an alcoholic and addiction runs rampant in my family. Karl encouraged me though, pointing out that while our kids were gone, we were on vacation, and buying me diet Pepsi and vodka. I read him bits and pieces, to fact check, to make sure the story I was telling was his story, not just my story.
I emailed chapters to friends who volunteered to read, critique, and edit my story. I finished my book and the first round of edits. I wrote the book I've been meaning to write for years and then I came to the end and I thought, "now what?"
Now, we move back to Texas.
People have asked us why, repeatedly. The answer, for me, is that Texas is where the next chapter starts. I couldn't have written my book without all the large and small encouragements I've gotten over the years, but I also couldn't have written my book in Texas. I needed to sit outside for two weeks writing and two weeks outside in Texas in the summer is unbearable. I needed to have very few friends to schedule dates with. I needed to be lonely and alone.
There are lots of other reasons we're moving, of course, not just because I've written a book and it's time to go home, but it's true: I have written a book and it's time to go home.
We have sold our house here in Washington, our contract closes in less than two weeks. We have found a house in Texas and that contract closes in three weeks. After we're settled, I will need to dig into my next round of edits and then send my memoir to people in hopes they'll see value in what I've written, but now, it's time to go home.
