I’m six months behind my goal in finishing a book on caregiving and I don’t even know why. I just know the editing is hard and I’m stuck. Sounds like the-dog-ate-my-homework excuse but it’s true. 

Yesterday, when I buried my cat Strouper across from his cat brother William who died exactly one year ago, it hit me. I was nearly finished with the first draft then and it’s been a year, a whole year, and I’m still working on it!  

So why am I not further along?

There was an article in the news yesterday about the ghostwriter who helped a Navy Seal write his memoir about Iraq in four months and how they’ve already been offered an advance of seven figures by the publisher. Nicholas Sparks takes about four to five months to write his novels and a month to edit. Yikes. “Don’t compare,” I shout to myself. 

If I knew why rewriting is so hard I wouldn’t let it paralyze me. My daughter says we get slowed down by the emotions we have to work through and she’s right. No one can help us bypass learning processes we need to discover for ourselves. We just need to go on and live our lives. In the meantime, I’ve found new perspectives from profoundly different experiences which are casting light on why I am struggling. It’s not just the process of rewriting that is difficult; it’s the issues I’m writing about that are obscure. Luckily, Shambhala Meditation, one of these new activities, is giving me the humanism and grace I’ve needed to break through this impasse and to see myself, and my book content, in a new light. 

Anne Lamott’s book Bird by Bird: Some instructions on Writing and Life is a must for writers and enterprising folks who love adventure but who, like all of us, get stuck. Her humor, perception, and self-deprecating tales got me through my earlier edits. I did what her editor told her to do, literally cutting up my manuscript into little pieces, spreading it across the floor and taping it together into a new format. The new rough hewn draft coiled across the room like a 20 foot crinkly snake. I prayed it would work, this letting go of my most choice words and insightful thoughts just so I could emphasize other ideas. I had to try it to get unstuck. And it did get me where I needed to go but it wasn’t far enough.

The writing process is like life. We don’t get where we want to go if we can’t be open to new ideas. Letting go creates space for the new ones to enter in. And because it’s a process, it sometimes takes a long time.  

I go over the edits of my very wise editor who pored over my book in front of a roaring fire in December, and I block out the fact that I am now reworking the structure and contents of the book in 103 degree heat.  And I realize that my getting unstuck can only come from resolving two big problems.  

The first is that I need to recall more specific detail from my experience to illustrate my points and make them more credible. This is a personal memoir about caring for my late husband and I have to demonstrate and prove my conclusions, not state them. People resist you if you don’t; they need to know how you arrived at a conclusion so they can decide whether or not they agree with you. It’s nearly impossible to remember detail from 35 years ago. But no books would be written if we had to remember every single thought we ever had. 

The second is that I ‘m not comfortable giving out much detail in the book about my husband’s behavior when he was ill because I want to protect his privacy and his legacy. Yet I need to describe enough so it makes sense. I’ll just have to get over that fear, take that risk, and find a balance between the two objectives. 

I received an e-mail today from a dear family friend, Charles Chu, who asked me how the book was coming. He said his granddaughter tells him to “… work hard, but not too hard,” which has been his motto and even his “habit since high school. Good or bad,” he said. He’s used his playtime in giving to others through mentoring, cooking and painting. Very productive play. This is possible when our activities spring from choice and an inner feeling of freedom. Neither creativity nor kindness can thrive in restricted soil.  

That beings me back to my editing. I not only have complete freedom to be myself in my writing but I must be myself. I’m not a ghostwriter but I cannot be a wispy, undefined ghost figure either if I want to tell my true story. I need to spill my in-the-flesh self, warts and all. Warts when I did the care giving, warts in the writing, and now warts in the editing. 

I’ll power through the editing and figure it out as I go. Funny how it is that no matter what new project we undertake, we bump up against the same issues: ourselves.  

Let’s see if by choosing fight over flight – or paralysis - I can actually fight things less, and go with the flow of what needs to get done. Then open myself to further learning. Finishing the book will lead to another adventure and additional change. It always has before.