It's Complicated.

So, I've probably got about 60-70,000 words down on the book (have I mentioned I'm writing a book???) A lot of it is drivel and won't make the final cut, and there are still some big gaps in the narrative, and cosmic leaps that need more explanation in the telling. 

These remaining gaps are the hard parts, and I've been slow about it. But there are reasons those parts haven't been filled in. They're painful. They bring me shame. 

In some cases, it's describing scenes that are just painful to relive -- and trying to do that in a way that conveys why I was feeling what I was feeling in the moment. So much of it was in my own haunted little head. 

In other cases, let's face it, I'm confessing some fairly shameful things about myself. About driving drunk. About drinking on the job. About my family, and things that happened when I was a kid, and that I've never talked about.  

I'm being pretty tough on all of us, it's true, but I'm also trying to be fair in the telling of it. Somewhere in all of this, I'm trying to find the love that must be there, somewhere, surely. We made mistakes, did dumb things, did horrible things. But we had our triumphs, too. We did a few things right, too. 

I like to think we found redemption in our time, and in our way. But the telling of it is... well, it's complicated.