Has your life been interesting enough to write a book?

Alligatorob said:
So when will you start writing?

I have written some highly technical things so I know a little about it.

Writing well is hard work, and takes skills most of us lack. On the technical side, what I did, its actually easier, if you have useful technical information to convey your writing skills are less important. I doubt I could successfully write something like a novel or biography, its much harder.
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Not going to start. I have no writing skills and it sounds rather tedious.
 

Has your life been interesting enough to write a book?​


It's in several piles.....

One day

About growing up......travels......friends


Here's an excerpt;


Ribs and other Bones

There’s nothing like a good meal for a get together,
and the good meal is a barbeque.

Being a northerner that spent some years down south, I can say those boys down there know barbeque.
Ribs, fallin off the bone.
Chikin, smoked, from wood, not wunna those fancy pellet rigs, but by an ol’ guy raised in a ‘grease house’, from a pit the size of a horse trough.
Beans, I didn’t know beans could taste like that. Odd things, strange herbs, spices, homemade sauces, a bit a fat meat, marinated for hours. They were a meal all by themselves.
Tater salad…M-M-M-M, none like it.
Sweet tea, steeped in a gallon jug in the sun.
Beer, Lone Star or Falstaff, didn’t matter, both tasted like mop water from a juke joint, but did their job of cleansing the palate for the next bite.
Sip, rib, sip, chikin, sip, beans, sip, salad, guzzle the rest.
Made ya just wanna fall down and scream.

Houston.
Down the street, Telephone road, was wunna those grease houses.
An old black gent lived there with what seemed like three generations of family.
Everbuddie's grampa, even mine for awhile.
Everyone called him Chili.
Bib overalls, white butcher’s apron, leather baseball cap was his eternal uniform.

Had a high pitched, raspy voice, and always a smirk on his ol’ mug.
More often than not, you’d find me sittin’ at his dilapidated picnic table after work, watchin’ him toil over the pit.
Nuthin’ attractive.
Tin lean-to roof, pile of wood, ol' white fridge that made a humming sound laboring in the heat.
Vats and jars, brushes, large forks, and the huge pit with a homemade steel lid, that once he was satisfied with how things were goin’ he’d drop down and come out to talk to me…..talk about stories…old day stories…..bone chilling, horrific stories.

Naw, nuthin’ attractive….. ‘cept for the rich savory aromatic fragrance emanating from that glorious pit.
I’d sit there, sweating like a pig, drool stream gathering on the table in a puddle…

‘Chili!
WTF ol’ man!?’

‘Boy, you know it’s not ready….I’ll tell ya when it’s ready.’

It was worth the wait.


Fourth of July…or as they say down there JOOOlah, everyone barbequed.
Po foke, rich foke, middle class foke, all had their pits goin’.
You couldn’t walk two steps without getting hit upside the head with the aroma of the gods.

One fourth, me and my lady were flat broke.
I’d come off a month long stint in Brownsville, inspecting oil field pipe, big job.
Tuboscope laid some folks off after that, so I volunteered for some time off myself.
Took most of June, just me and my lady…nobody else.
Ran outta money…rent was paid, car was maintained, just broke….food crumbs in the fridge, empty bottles piled in the corner of the carport below…sittin’ on the couch smokin’ a partial I’d dug outta the butt can.

‘I’m goin’ back to work.’

‘It’s the fourth.’

‘Oh’

Chili and family had gone somewhere.
It was hot.
Most neighbors had headed to Galveston.

Our guts were eatin’ guts.
Hadn’t been so hungry in a long time.
A friend invited us to a company get together.
The park was filled with heavenly flavors.
Kids, old folk, parents, all had plates heaped with goodies, goodies that tempted me to follow ‘em, floating on the fragrant waves.

We strolled over to the tables.

$3.50

$3.50??!!

I had 37 cents.

One the way back to the garage apartment I swore I’d never put myself in that position again…especially on the fourth.

I think we need to head back down south for a spell.

Something about the word ‘brisket’ that just sounds savory…didn’t know what it was ‘til I landed in Texas.
 
Bretrick said:
Do you think you will write a book.
There are people who help with that stuff, for a fee.
It would be so much easier with guidance
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True editors are college related jobs attached to author's books a sure way to make money. If you see the jrRowlings dvd movie Harry Potter books no one wanted to publish and Elizabeth goldberg something like that the money pays for houses outright with stainless steel kitchen appliances soo could be $799,000 or more........look into it. Editors fix the worded sentences and they to get paid to spouse up a book so many will buy who can afford to buy
 
Bretrick said:
I think my life experiences would enable enough content to be worthy of a book.
From the utterly dysfunctional childhood, early extreme alcoholism/drug dependency, years of Bulimia, chronic depression and the ultimate triumph over all that adversity.
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Up to now, I've written and self-published 4 novels and a poetry book. It all started when I was in my early 40s and became a stay-at-home mother with time on my hands. The fifth novel I have been working on since 2018 has not been published yet because I became busy with school. Although novels are fiction, they can also be a way of writing parts of your life into the story without feeling vulnerable or exposed. Many new authors tend to do that. I always thought it was hard to write novels, and even harder to write a memoir (it takes courage to reveal one's life to the world). But I've realized over the years that I'd like to one day write a memoir. With a memoir you can pick and choose what to focus on. You don't have to write about the dark side or parts of your life that make you feel uncomfortable if you don't want to. Write what YOU find interesting. We all have a unique experience to share. I've also thought about writing a book one day about writing novels. Just a thought.

But it all starts with writing. Writing is like a muscle. You do it every day and it develops. What we do here on SF is exactly that. One of the reasons I enjoy coming on here is it gives me and everyone here an opportunity to write our thoughts down and also share parts of our lives with each other.

If you want to write to make money, don't do it. It's a lot of work, and often you don't make enough money to warrant the time you put in. But it's important to enjoy it. Someone here said they published on Amazon and then removed it because it didn't sell. I still have my books on Amazon. It's a free way to promote your books. If anyone has questions about writing, publishing, editing, etc maybe we can start a thread on that topic.
 
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Alligatorob said:
So when will you start writing?

I have written some highly technical things so I know a little about it.

Writing well is hard work, and takes skills most of us lack. On the technical side, what I did, its actually easier, if you have useful technical information to convey your writing skills are less important. I doubt I could successfully write something like a novel or biography, its much harder.
Click to expand...
I agree that writing well is hard work. I have written both technical articles and fiction, and each one requires different styles of writing. I thought I could never write fiction, but it requires time, and I didn't have time as a career woman until I married and stayed home. Then I had time to write. I joined writing workshops online, and read tons of books on writing. I wrote every day during the baby's naps. It can happen to you, too. I found editing and revising to be the hardest part of writing. It usually has taken me 2 years to research, write, and revise a novel before it's published. So if I can do it, so can you. :)
 
Grampa Don said:
I've written my autobiography, but it's not chronological. Instead it has sections for different aspects, like hobbies, scouts, service, schools, and so on. I wrote it for my sons and because it was a fun thing to do. I wish I knew more about my parents' lives.

I also wrote a little book about my time in the Navy, and even published it as an e-book on Amazon. I got a couple nice reviews, but hardly any sales, so I un-published it. I called it Several Leagues Under the Sea. I was a crew member on a submarine for two years.
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Congratulations on writing your autobiography and the book about your time in the Navy! That's wonderful! You should republish your book on Amazon because it also is a good way to promote yourself as an author. Keep on writing! :)
 
Irwin said:
I wrote the first draft of a novel that was semi-autobiographical. It all took place over a few months, though. I have plenty of other stories from my life that could be made into novels.

Writing a book is a huge endeavor and should be left to people who love writing, which I'm not one of. Sometimes I just can't find the right words to say what I want to say. It's like extracting teeth. For some people, they just flow. That must be nice.
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Congratulations for writing the first draft of your novel! For you to get that far, that means you've got the drive. Just keep writing. Yes, it is sometimes difficult to find the right words, but the important thing is to keep writing and not worry about the words until you're actually finished. Once you're finished you can go back and revise and look up synonyms for words. Also there are editing programs like Grammarly and ProWritingAid that help with words and editing. Good luck! :)
 
Bretrick said:
I think my life experiences would enable enough content to be worthy of a book.
From the utterly dysfunctional childhood, early extreme alcoholism/drug dependency, years of Bulimia, chronic depression and the ultimate triumph over all that adversity.
Click to expand...
Why not write a book, or several books? Write what you're comfortable with. Some people aren't comfortable with writing about themselves and instead write their life stories as fiction, changing the names and physical characteristics of the characters. This way they don't feel they're exposing themselves to the world. Good luck!
 
I was inspired about 10 years ago to write an autobiography for my two children. They moved to another state when they were young and I didn't have a close relationship with them. I tried to help them understand who I was and the unusual path my life took. From a stable childhood, to the tumultuous teenage years, to a born again Christian, to a traveling musician, to joining a Buddhist intentional community, to being a regular old person. I started it and got about a third of the journey down and then I lost it when upgrading to the plethora of computers during the past ten years. Never tried again, way to hard and to write like I did the first time was exhausting. :)
 
Gary O' said:

Has your life been interesting enough to write a book?​


It's in several piles.....

One day

About growing up......travels......friends


Here's an excerpt;


Ribs and other Bones

There’s nothing like a good meal for a get together,
and the good meal is a barbeque.

Being a northerner that spent some years down south, I can say those boys down there know barbeque.
Ribs, fallin off the bone.
Chikin, smoked, from wood, not wunna those fancy pellet rigs, but by an ol’ guy raised in a ‘grease house’, from a pit the size of a horse trough.
Beans, I didn’t know beans could taste like that. Odd things, strange herbs, spices, homemade sauces, a bit a fat meat, marinated for hours. They were a meal all by themselves.
Tater salad…M-M-M-M, none like it.
Sweet tea, steeped in a gallon jug in the sun.
Beer, Lone Star or Falstaff, didn’t matter, both tasted like mop water from a juke joint, but did their job of cleansing the palate for the next bite.
Sip, rib, sip, chikin, sip, beans, sip, salad, guzzle the rest.
Made ya just wanna fall down and scream.

Houston.
Down the street, Telephone road, was wunna those grease houses.
An old black gent lived there with what seemed like three generations of family.
Everbuddie's grampa, even mine for awhile.
Everyone called him Chili.
Bib overalls, white butcher’s apron, leather baseball cap was his eternal uniform.

Had a high pitched, raspy voice, and always a smirk on his ol’ mug.
More often than not, you’d find me sittin’ at his dilapidated picnic table after work, watchin’ him toil over the pit.
Nuthin’ attractive.
Tin lean-to roof, pile of wood, ol' white fridge that made a humming sound laboring in the heat.
Vats and jars, brushes, large forks, and the huge pit with a homemade steel lid, that once he was satisfied with how things were goin’ he’d drop down and come out to talk to me…..talk about stories…old day stories…..bone chilling, horrific stories.

Naw, nuthin’ attractive….. ‘cept for the rich savory aromatic fragrance emanating from that glorious pit.
I’d sit there, sweating like a pig, drool stream gathering on the table in a puddle…

‘Chili!
WTF ol’ man!?’

‘Boy, you know it’s not ready….I’ll tell ya when it’s ready.’

It was worth the wait.


Fourth of July…or as they say down there JOOOlah, everyone barbequed.
Po foke, rich foke, middle class foke, all had their pits goin’.
You couldn’t walk two steps without getting hit upside the head with the aroma of the gods.

One fourth, me and my lady were flat broke.
I’d come off a month long stint in Brownsville, inspecting oil field pipe, big job.
Tuboscope laid some folks off after that, so I volunteered for some time off myself.
Took most of June, just me and my lady…nobody else.
Ran outta money…rent was paid, car was maintained, just broke….food crumbs in the fridge, empty bottles piled in the corner of the carport below…sittin’ on the couch smokin’ a partial I’d dug outta the butt can.

‘I’m goin’ back to work.’

‘It’s the fourth.’

‘Oh’

Chili and family had gone somewhere.
It was hot.
Most neighbors had headed to Galveston.

Our guts were eatin’ guts.
Hadn’t been so hungry in a long time.
A friend invited us to a company get together.
The park was filled with heavenly flavors.
Kids, old folk, parents, all had plates heaped with goodies, goodies that tempted me to follow ‘em, floating on the fragrant waves.

We strolled over to the tables.

$3.50

$3.50??!!

I had 37 cents.

One the way back to the garage apartment I swore I’d never put myself in that position again…especially on the fourth.

I think we need to head back down south for a spell.

Something about the word ‘brisket’ that just sounds savory…didn’t know what it was ‘til I landed in Texas.
Click to expand...
I always enjoy reading your writing! Thanks for sharing this! Have you published your work?
 
Paco Dennis said:
I was inspired about 10 years ago to write an autobiography for my two children. They moved to another state when they were young and I didn't have a close relationship with them. I tried to help them understand who I was and the unusual path my life took. From a stable childhood, to the tumultuous teenage years, to a born again Christian, to a traveling musician, to joining a Buddhist intentional community, to being a regular old person. I started it and got about a third of the journey down and then I lost it when upgrading to the plethora of computers during the past ten years. Never tried again, way to hard and to write like I did the first time was exhausting. :)
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Can our children ever really understand us? I guess that if we didn't know who our parents were (I mean really understand their hardships, falters and successes) then we cannot expect our children to understand us. The question is if it should try to tell them "in their face", sublimely, or just leave it be and hope some act of fate will lead them to it? It's too much work for me so I think I'd rather just leave this earth anonymously and let my children get on with their own lives without being encumbered by my personal pride, foibles and existence.
 
Gary O' said:
Couple books back a ways.
One did OKish
The other needed burning.

I plan on getting another published, but.......stuff gets in the way.
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Don't give up! In my writers' group I had an 82 year old man join us and he started writing and stayed with the group until he passed at age 91. By that time he had published his novel and a couple of religious texts. You never know!
 
No book from me. To write one, I'd have to sit at a keyboard too long for starters. I'd have to drag up bad memories that I have purposely buried so I could concentrate on going forward and not be weighed down by them. Most autobiographies probably leave out things you want to keep private anyway which I and others would be tempted to do so it wouldn't be complete.
 
Pecos said:
Some parts of mine have been very interesting, but other things that were profoundly interesting to me can put other people to sleep. I mean, LOL nobody wants to read about being inside a radar system with test probes trying to figure out why it isn't cooperating.
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I hear you, Pecos. I am almost asleep, already. 🥱
Just teasing, my friend. Lol. You are anything but boring! Merry Christmas. 🎄🎁🧉
 
No, a book would be of little interest though on some scales, I've lived a most unique and interesting life many would envy. As someone that lived a solo adult life without lots of acquaintances except at work places, I'm the only one that knows much about my personal life. Books work better for individuals with many friends and acquaintances through their adult life. A writer would have no one to get at info from except me. How does one write a book or use any media about someone with large numbers of interesting outdoor adventures? Individual stories I've documented sure, but a biography about one's life...no.
 

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