Everything is different and yet everything is the same.
I thought once we (the collective we) would come out on the other side, it would be different. And now I see so much of it is still the same.
The weather has been delightfully cold, I am still wearing sweaters and long pants and socks and slippers. For two days in April it got up to 80 and I thought oh no, again? Again? Summer is here again?
** The Book**
I was stressing so much about having too many pages, there is just so much history that is relevant to the story and really gives a sense what was going on during my subject’s lifetime.
A good example of a nonfiction book size and paper would be Barbara Tuchman’s “A Distant Mirror.” Except there are no photos in Barbara Tuchman’s book.
There are so many photos I want to use from my collection, which means whatever photos printed in the book probably won’t translate that well.
I think I came up with a solution, and will set up an area on my website that will have all the supplemental photos in chronological order to go along with the book. The photos are such an important part of the story because they provide undeniable proof that this long-assed story actually really happened.
I am still in 1895. I have 700 words to go for 1895 but holy hell, I think I hit a plateau and slogging through mud. I can actually, finally, see the end of the book just a mile up the road, but the closer I get to the end, the farther away it is. It is like one of those mirages where you think you are getting closer but the reality is, you only moved maybe an inch.
It feels like I have been moving a mountain of dirt using only a tablespoon, and I am only allowed to move a single tablespoon of dirt each day. For years.
When I get to the third draft, I’m pulling out the bulldozer.
Music: Disappearing by Peter Murphy