Once upon a time, I wanted to be a writer. I know, I can feel you shaking your head in embarrassment for me. I was unusually smart & wised up & realized I wasn't a very good writer, but it's something that's still in me, not the desire so much, but the thinking about stories & ideas for novels & all that. (I also wrote poetry but, really, the less said about that the better.)
I didn't write terribly autobiographical stuff - I was barely in my 20's, I had very little life to write about. But when I think about writing these days, it is autobiographical, since I have a few decades of life behind me & probably less before me.
One book I was thinking about writing these past couple of weeks is about my father. I know virtually nothing about him - he & my mother were divorced when I was four, & he was an alcoholic who appeared intermittently throughout my childhood. By the time he kicked the booze, I was in high school, & he showed no interest in getting to know me, & I guess I was too self-involved to care. He died I believe in my last year of college. I wasn't sad at his funeral, unlike my sisters, who were devastated.
The book would be called something like "All The Times I Saw My Father," & I would just tell the stories of my (strangely few) memories of him.
But I don't think I'll write such a book, for a couple of reasons. One is, of course, that I'm not a good writer. But the other is that it would be a lot of hard work. A lot of digging through memories that I might not have any more - not to mention trying to contextualize those memories. I don't think I have the persistence & wherewithal to pull something like that off.
I can think about it, though. & write about thinking about it.
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