On(ward) Writing

with a destination(s) in mind

I have always been a writer.

The sporadic journaling kind. The haphazard kind. The kind of writer whose scope of their world shifts the first time someone notices their writing. A writer for fun, for learning, for processing, and even a published one.

I started writing a book four years ago mostly in the sauna of a gym. For the 2 hours a day I had childcare I would find creative brain cells during a workout and use the duration of those two hours to brain dump into the Notes of my iPhone. The book itself is a food-centric memoir that follows my earliest memories in a chaotic single-mother household through my life, with a focus on the complex relationship with my mother until my mother’s death. Food or cooking play a role in each chapter (including the chapter titles that mayhaps I will finish- I hate titling things), often a soothing and memorable natural centerpiece to otherwise dramatic circumstances.

I would like to tell you that this is my big reveal of its completion, it is not. It is however a revelation of it being once again picked up (by me) with a timeline in earnest for its completion.

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Thank you a million times over.