Everyone has to start somewhere, so here we are. I remember doing a blog about 10 years ago. I remember writing about my job at Subway and how stressful my job was. I don't even want to try to find that blog anymore because I'm sure I would punch 19 year old Emily in the face because she had absolutely no idea what stress was.
I've been asked to start writing a book, and I've finally decided to take on that process. One of my friends suggested I begin blogging so that I have a platform and maybe develop a following. So, here we are.
I've researched different types of books I might want to publish. Frankly, when I was working on my writing degree at Bluffton University, I would have told you I'd publish fiction someday. However, I've started to learn my true gift might be in nonfiction. So, I started researching, "How to write a self-help book." Can we all take a step back for a second and take in the irony that is googling how to write a self-help book? Google tells me that, contrary to popular belief, it's important to have a narrow scope. For example, instead of writing about how to be a mom, it's actually better to write about how to be a vegan, success coaching, running, Uno-loving mom. That's not me; I hate Uno. You get the idea though.
It seems that most of my "popular" content on my social media platforms are my musings on motherhood. But Google said I couldn't be that broad. I sat down and made a list of things I want to share, and I think the basis of the essays in my book will be how to remedy the complexities of developing your own identity (through tragedy and mental health struggles) while molding little brains of your own.
I just completed my first "essay," and I plan to share previews of each of them with you as I complete them. This is supposed to serve 2 purposes: 1) to hold me accountable and 2) to give room for feedback as I work through this process.
My first essay is about the first major tragedy I experienced in my life. In retrospect, I realize the tragedy had even more of an impact on my life than I'd previously imagined. So, here's your preview:
"Regardless of your religious or nonreligious beliefs, tragedy is always a breath away. Yet, we continue to work and love and live like we will get to return to our jobs, relationships, and hobbies tomorrow. That requires some faith. I learned at 9 years old that all of this is fleeting. I learned that you could be jumping on the trampoline with the spring sun shining on the back of your pony-tailed neck while your mom is figuring out how to tell you something that she knows is going to change the course of your life."
Thanks for being a part of all of this. Your job is to keep me on track. To critique me. To ask me where I've been when I've been gone for a while. To tell me when something sounds stupid. I know you've got my back.