Amnesic Memoir

...a dispatch from bewilderness

I’m writing a book. Or two. Perhaps a novella that begins at the end of a life. My life. Then perhaps another novella that begins at the start of a life. My new life. My new/old life since I’m getting old, too.

Where would bookstores put this thing? Amazon, with unusual resourcefulness, might nest it under Self-Help/Relationships/Love & Loss. Or Brain/Brain Science/Neuroscience/Memoir. (Though some of us don’t buy from Amazon.)

I would put it in Writing/Literature or in Memoir or in Amnesic Memoir, which doesn’t exist. But I’m not Amazon. And, of course, there’s no such thing as Amnesic Memoir except on this stack.

The book(s) might contain a four letter word or two, like the word “four” or the word “word,” for example, or even suggestive situations. As in situations that suggest something I then write about. But I doubt there’s anything that would lead a child astray.

Some might call it chaotic. Well, most would. Some might call it charmingly chaotic. Some might call it batshit crazy. I might call it a hug of a book. Or a hug of two books. They might include a naked Norwegian, like appeared in a piece by Abby Thomas. He was in a tub. There was also an apple cake, but it was not in a tub. I’ve never seen a naked Norwegian or baked an apple cake.

The books might also include an ER which is now known (at times) as an ED instead. As in Emergency Department, not as in erectile dysfunction. Where people arrive for one of two reasons: to live or to die. And the staff strains to treat them all.

But back to the book(s) I am writing. I will add a bit of hope, a bit of faith, a lot of love. Shaken and stirred. Plus, of course, an agent. A really good agent. P.S. Find Abby Thomas (Abigail Thomas) on Substack at “What Comes Next.”