I really thought about not posting today. I did not plan on being sick the week I decided to post revisions to a story excerpt. However, that’s life with writing–things will get in the way, and you have to just get something down. Just. Get. It. Down.
So, that’s what I’m doing today. I can’t think straight; I can’t breathe out of my nose. However, I am going to write a few words, and maybe they will turn into sentence, and then I could even get a paragraph. The fear of perfectionism keeps us from starting many tasks. I’m scared that all of you will see how very far I am from perfect today. BUT I want to get something down, so here goes:
(This is just an add on to what I finished before. I’m not going back and revising anything today.)
I thought about my future as I ripped roots from the earth. That’s a satisfying pull. I was going to be a famous singer even though I’d never sang in front of a crowd or anyone. I could sing though. I was a fat girl that could sing. This fact was the only reason I could stand myself. I thought my largeness contributed to my ability to sing, so I was slightly thankful for it. At least I didn’t know what I’d be without my big body. I would sing out there, all kinds of songs. Mama listened to KATY country, and I could remember all the words to a song after I heard it once. Dolly Parton was one of my favorites, but I secretly liked the black soul music the best. Those vibrating songs brought out something deep down in me, something that scared me when it came out.