Speaking of mental journeys well, then, there’s my life.
Since deciding in a frenzy during the summer when I awaited matriculation at Harvard, that I wanted to be a writer (I needed a goal, a plan), I have been on the mental journey of “wanting to be a writer,” which, it turned out, was a trail already forged by many men and women both skilled and for-the-birds.
This has taken me a very, very long time to work out.
For many years I sat on my butt. Butt-sitting was the closest I could get to “being a writer.” I planned and rehearsed my coming book, “Voices,” about schizophrenia at a state hospital, which was where my butt was sitting just then.
The butt-sitting long outlasted the state hospital. As an avid reader I had always been a butt-sitter of sorts, and there is also a biological reason for this in me, which I won’t go into here. Well into my marriage my butt-sitting had taken a new form, laying down all day and night, even when I had a very young one to care for. I was on Depakote and 40 mg of Stelazine a day. I gained 50 pounds. In this condition I lived my married life which is now over.
This long journey, my life, my butt-sitting, my reading, my writing, ends here, I have so often recently avowed–“I’m dying” I have said, (“for the Lord told me.”). I have consequently been patiently awaiting a blessed, good death, coming soon, any time now. I have my book finally–a self-do-it number at a good self-doer press. I have my reading and writing under control. I sit on my butt, and there’s no relief but to write, so I blog. I am a seasoned blogger. I have been blogging oddly, often, proudly, and often scared for some 6 years now. And hence I have my book, taken from my blog.
As the book goes into production, I am already on top of the new one. It’s called (well, I’m not so stupid as to say that, because someone would scoop me.) N I can’t say what it’s about, for this same and also for other reasons. (Secrecy is of the essence. Maybe that will change.)
First things first. I have to change the title of this platform. No no no, I’ll leave it for now.
Here it begins: my next book.
And a new lease on life? :Lord?