I’ve put aside work on the memoir, My Mother’s Money, that I’ve written several posts about. The opening chapters could do with some revisions, and I don’t have many creative thoughts about them right now.
I still feel the story is a gripping one, but I need to take a break from it for a bit.
In fact, the whole time I was churning out those opening chapters, my other memoir, the one about my trials and tribulations working for 11 bosses in 11 years—at a single institution—kept calling to me.
So, I’ve resumed work on that memoir. I’m happy to say that I’ve got four or five chapters done. Skirt! Magazine even published an abbreviated version of it in an essay I wrote, called “From Part Time to Parting Time.”
The Lesser of Two Evils
One of the perils of memoir writing is the crappy and/or unresolved feelings the process dredges up. So, I’m choosing my current poison, so to speak. It’s less unnerving to write about bosses and colleagues, and the various lives we live at work, than to write about my parents’ costly peccadilloes.
Oh, and by the way, the reason I have the luxury of revising the opening chapters of My Mother’s Money is that the agent who was reviewing it decided not to pursue publication. But, an online contact (whom I hope to meet in person next month), has indicated that her publisher would be willing to take a look at it.
So, at some point in the not too distant future, I’m going to have to go down that depressing road again, writing about my siblings’ and my missing inheritance.