I've never been much of a one to go in for New Year's resolutions. I guess that's because I realize how much I lack in the way of self-discipline. Like a superstitious ignoramus, I secretly feel that if I don't put intentions into words, no one (including me) will notice when I fail to bring them to fruition. This post is, therefore, a daunting thing. Maybe I'm just superstitious, but already the results are beginning to make themselves visible, and it's not a comfortable feeling.
For some time of late I've thought of trying to write ...a memoir...an autobiography...an extended journal...? Anyway, something to leave behind. For whom? Well, maybe for my children and grandchildren, probably not for strangers, but maybe that decision will have to wait until I've finished.
What is most difficult to manage, I find, is the gradually but rapidly increasing awareness of my lack of awareness. As I've begun what may turn out to be rather a lot of pages, every incident or period I recall and think to mention brings home to me how little I understood about it or about the people involved (again, including me) at the time, and I've only produced about 8 or 9 single-spaced pages of references for a skeleton.
It took me about 9 months to produce the first drafts of my novels. The more formative, important, interesting things I haven't got to yet, even as a list! Big question for 2011 is: will I be able to finish a project like this?
Old Moon
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