I Somehow Ended Up Writing a Book

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I’ve wasted a lot of time frustrated that I fall on the average/below average memory scale. Going through my adult life with the silent, persistent wish for a better memory. To put it another way, I am so awed by people with great memories — wow, they are so smart!

I’ve recently flipped my attitude and decided it’s okay to not have a great memory because otherwise I may not have been writing so much over the years. In my personal life, writing stuff down helps keep me in line and keeps my life in order. Journaling, writing stories, writing letters, writing through tough times, writing down trip experiences.

I journaled my way through the process of planning Kilimanjaro to help me define how best to approach the adventure. A big trek was taking place, made up of tons of little details, and I had to capture those details with pen and paper. I know others are more prone to do last minute traveling and are not planners and they seem to do okay, but that’s not my MO. Plus, I like to romance a trip and get acquainted with it beforehand.

I journaled through our time in Africa. I had a small backpack-sized notebook while we were on the mountain, and used a fill-in-the-blank format to record camp names, elevation, best part of the day, the worst. How me and Craig were doing. Etc. Most days, I didn’t spend more than ten or fifteen minutes writing. When we got back to the States, in early 2020, I intended to take my notes and write up something as a way to remember our trip. I don’t know, maybe ten pages or so just to have and to file away.

COVID hit.

My particular (privileged) circumstance was that I worked part time, but already retired and didn’t need to work, so my daily life became one of staying home as much as possible because it wasn’t safe to be out in the world. I started using large chunks of my day organizing my travel notes and began to write down our adventure. I’ve never had a pressing desire to write a book. Who has time to do that? Besides, I’m just an ordinary person.

But….

In the freshness of the pandemic life’s normal distractions all but evaporated.

For me, this yielded Lots of Time on My Hands.

It didn’t go unnoticed, that if I ever were to consider writing a book, this would be the time. I never could’ve imagined stumbling across this wide open door. I was still puffed up from having summited Kilimanjaro, so having the audacity to climb a big mountain gave me reason to think I could write a book as well.

I decided to go for it. 

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