But I can’t help it. I was writing this morning, the fourth draft of a chapter of my book and it’s driving me nuts. I’m writing about the two years we spent in a house and neighborhood that I loved. We moved because it wasn’t upwardly mobile enough. Anyway, I was writing the scene, just elucidating all the ways that this place and time were so idyllic, but what I really want to write is about a couple of semi-tragic, very non-idyllic moments. I want it to contrast with the idyllic parts, but I’m having a hard time transitioning from the idyllic background to the non-idyllic moments. But, however, in contrast–not doing it for me. And I can’t just launch into it because I think it will seem like such a dramatic shift. Damn, this is hard. I mean the contrast is the important part, I think, because if I write just the tragic parts, then it might seem that that’s what my life was about. And there’s the complete absence of my mother so far. Partly this is because I honestly don’t remember her presence that much during this time, except as the instigator of one of the more tragic parts. Where the heck was she?
I’m planning another round of this later this afternoon, so we’ll see if I get anywhere. I feel like I have to get through this chapter before moving on to the next. Okay, I’m going to shower now and hit the drug store, grocery store, etc.