I have been working on this book for a good minute now. Every time I sat down to work on it, I just felt….absent. As a writer, you like to get into your head, find that space where everything just flows as it should; all thoughts, all words, cohesively and plainly say what you want.
But, it wasn’t working. Not at all.
I sounded high brow, like a snob. Yes, I will admit my writing tends to sound “floral.” That’s what Phillip calls it. I tend to sound affluent and literary. (Well, lah dee daa). And that is SO not what this book was supposed to be like.
This is a tell all, dammit! Don’t candy coat it! Don’t make it sound profound.
That’s when I really started to examine what it was I wanted to say, and just HOW I wanted it to be said. Suddenly, the words on the page changed from languid and symphonic to machine gun percussion. I was rolling with the honesty of the words, rather than how the words sounded.
My thoughts as they spilled onto the page had become rapid, quick and dangerous. I finally found the right voice for this book.
Come on. I’m writing about the strange journey this life of a knitter has been. Like, interviewing Deborah Norville about her knit and crochet show, being approached by the producers of the Tyra Banks show and being asked, “Did you eat out of garbage cans when you were homeless?” (My answer, “No, I’m not Madonna.”) To being interviewed by the makers of “Naked and Afraid.” (They said they wanted to do a different kind of show and they had me in mind….however, they strangely enough still asked me to take off my ball cap. Weird, right?)
I’m writing about how the femi-nazis took down my twitter account and had me suspended for life because I was misquoted when I said, “I don’t think women should vote.” I’m writing about being blocked from using facebook for two days because I said, “This fag’s pride flag has but three colors. Red, white and blue.” I’m writing about the days and ways of a man who knits madly.
This has been one insane journey. It cannot have my Edwardian flair for verbiage, it cannot reek of tea. It has to smell like the bite of whiskey. It had to be written with the same sort of vicious vibe that would make Kitty Kelly and Wendy Williams smile.
This book is full of dirty laundry and trashy people….and many of them knit.
And the moment I found that clarity, it was game on. I was writing in a whole new and refreshing way that sounded conversational. It HAS to sound that way. I don’t want it to sound like I’m giving a lecture from a podium, I want it to sound like I’m sitting with you, talking with you about the crap this craft has thrown at me.
So, now it is in the rewrite stages and I am having the time of my life no longer concerned about what people may think about my work. Loving every minute of it. I’m writing freely and openly.
I’m gonna let it sit for a minute. Go back every few days, not every day, but every few days and take a peek, make some adjustments. I told Phillip what I was doing and he said, “Are you really sure you wanna do this?”
He just smiled and said, “Well, you’ve always been more of a ‘kick ass’ kinda guy, than a ‘kiss ass’ kinda guy.”
Amen to that.