After writing yesterday's post, I started going through my old journals. I figured, if I'm going to get rid of them I need to do the Me that Was some justice and read through them one last time. Most of them, I haven't cracked open in years. I haven't gone near them since I wrote on the last page and filed it away for posterity.
I settled in to read the very first journal, the one I started in junior high but didn't really start using until college. I was prepared to flip through and be done with it in just 20 minutes, but I found something in there. I found something good. So I started reading it in earnest. And I found more good things.
I'm still not all the way through the first journal, but I'm thinking to myself "Self, you may have a book here."
I don't know what or how or when, but I could see it. I could see the layout of it. And then I saw a different but equally interesting layout of it. And then I saw the title:
I think I need to work on the title. The scary thing is, I can see the cover art for that title too. Which I would totally mock up and post here if it wasn't for the fact I lost my bootleg version of Photoshop last year when my hard drive crashed.
I've spoken about writing a book on many occasions, and this is about as far as it's ever gotten. We'll see if this project gets off the ground. Or not. But it's given me new respect for the Me in those pages. Maybe we'll hold on to her a while longer. Just because the stories are over and done does not mean they still don't have a lesson to teach.
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