The tenth notebook

I just finished my tenth notebook. I was curious, I had to try to figure out how many words were in it. I calculated: maybe 90,000. I started September 2011. I went to the box to put it away with the others. As I've done on every other occasion, when I put away a finished notebook, I pulled out one of the old ones and flipped it open. Started reading. Flipped through more pages. It was from more than 20 years ago, before my first child was born. I wasn't liking what I was reading. The past was coming alive in a way I did not need it to, right now. I pushed it back into place. I set the newly finished notebook on top of the others and closed it up. Where they'll sit for many more months until I'm done with another 100-page notebook. Filling time, filling pages.

I have an idea of writing a memoir, using as background material these notebooks, where close to a million words now sit. I started in 1985, writing every day or every week; once, I remember, I took about 7 months off, but then came back to it. I could not deny who I was/am, and what I needed to do. No matter what others were telling me.

Don't let others tell you who you are; figure that out on your own. And rejoice in it.