I just made tentative arrangements with a bookstore to take a van load of my old stock.
I think this will take about 1/2 (?) of the remaining books & stuff in the storage unit? I have 2 boxes + I’m giving to a local bookstore, tomorrow. But the storage still has boxes loaded 10 high I think…
On one hand, I’m thinking —
“YAY!!! I can finally move on!” And on the other? I just want to have a really good, long weep.
Books were my salvation, my only reliable sanctuary. They didn’t change, and almost everything else did or wasn’t trustworthy, because my Abuser had removed that certainty: family, friends, God, the neighbors, my schools, even where I lived.
I was in a weird situation: eating prime beef in a ritzy neighborhood, thinking I was damned and going to be thrown out at any time. Being beaten in some ways would have been easier. Broken bones show and heal — a broken spirit not so much.
But books? The books were always the same. The good guys were always good; the bad guys were always bad. And the sort of stories I read? The good guys always won, because I desperately needed to believe that I could win. (Doesn’t everyone see themselves as a good guy?)
So. A milestone. It will get done. But I may cry myself to sleep or cry in my sleep for a while yet too.
Posted in behaviors, Books, cleaning up, Culling, Cultural Shift, dehoarding, Digging Out from Under, future plans, Goals, healing, Hoarding, home improvements, learning, Life Lessons, Making Home, minimalism, organization, Planning, projects, psychological stuff, PTSD, trauma
Tagged books as salvation, the great book cull, why books mattered so much, why getting rid of books is so hard
The publisher, a few months ago (?) sent me a pdf of my memoir. Great! It’s going to be a real book — HURRAH!
But you can’t edit pdfs. So, I sent him a note, how did he want changes noted, etc. and never got an answer.
There’s a convention in a few weeks where Ill probably see him. I should be able to get an answer in person. Then, maybe, it will get to be a real book people can buy.
A mutual friend, an author, volunteered to write a blurb. I sent him a note. Nada.
It is NOT a memoir; it’s a black hole. This happened a lot when people were reading it. I do NOT know wtf I wrote that makes people think I can’t take whatever they’re likely to say about the thing. I keep telling people I’m twitchy about the events but not the black squiggles which describe them. I have paid 3 people to edit the thing.
Maybe I just give up?
I don’t know.
Posted in Books, editing, English, experts, future plans, learning, Making Home, Memoir, paperwork, projects, psychological stuff, publication, scheduling, self-interest, status, writing, writing problems
Tagged editing problems, memoir, publication, unknowns