My deadline to get the second draft of my memoir to my editor at Simon & Schuster is Monday night. I’ve been working on it pretty much nonstop for the last few weeks. It has been mentally and emotionally taxing. To have to go back to intimately painful moments and not just write about them, but also write about the emotions they stirred, is a little too much in the middle of a pandemic. My mother died in November, my father in May, and it has not been an easy nine months at Left Hand Church. Put it all together, and you might have noticed that you haven’t heard from me much.
First, the memoir. I am thrilled to have been given the opportunity to write a memoir for a major publisher, and I am definitely grateful for the substantive advance, but I am not a great writer and I want to write a great book. My friends Nicole Vickey and Carla Godwin have helped me with the book, and both assure me it is good. But I am not in pursuit of good. You get one shot with a big five publisher, and I want to make it count. Good I can do. I’m finding great to be painfully elusive.
It turns out I can tell you pretty much every thought I’ve had throughout my life. What I can’t tell you is what I was feeling when I had those thoughts. Like so many men, I counted on others to tell me what my feelings were. This week I keep waking up singing a line from Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah: I did my best, it wasn’t much, I couldn’t feel so I tried to touch, I told the truth, I didn’t come to fool ya.
I want to get it right in the telling of the memoir, but I don’t even know what right is. I realize how often I counted on Cathy to tell me how I was feeling. It was an unfair burden for her to carry. When I transitioned and Cathy and I separated, I still wanted her to identify my emotions for me, but she lovingly told me it was not her job. Unfortunately, I transferred it to one of my best friends, who finally took her leave. Now I’m trying to feel and touch and we’re in the middle of a pandemic and I have a book deadline.
When your editor asks for more emotion and you write every possible emotion you can identify and still your former wife, on reading the manuscript, says, “I still don’t know what you were feeling,” and you answer, “It’s because I don’t know what I was feeling,” you start to question whether your book will ever get to great. Which causes you to spend inordinate amounts of time on the book and stop writing your blog altogether.
I know I am not a bad writer. I also know I am a better speaker than writer. Even if I am talking into a camera instead of before a live audience, I have an easier time putting my feelings into words when I am speaking. Which brings me to the church.
As with every other church in America, Left Hand has had to pivot to online services. John Gaddis and I have carried the lion’s share of the preaching, and Heatherlyn has been there each and every Saturday singing her heart out. We tape the services on or near John’s front porch, and much to our surprise, well over one thousand people watch the services every week. Our real time viewers stretch from the Philippines to New Zealand, Australia, Brazil, Ireland and England. It turns out our people have a lot of acquaintances all over the world. Well, that and my TED talk, which is again being smiled upon by the algorithm gods of YouTube.
In January I stepped down as one of the co-pastors at Left Hand but remained as teaching pastor. Aaron left completely in January and to everyone’s surprise, Jen left in May. This month we went back to a co-pastor model, with four co-pastors – Kristie Sykes, John Gaddis, Nicole Vickey and me. We will work within that structure for at least the next year or so. We lost some folks, but the church is doing well. Most new churches face a crisis sometime in their first three years of existence. It either kills them or makes them stronger. It looks like it has made us stronger, which is a good thing. But if you are a blog reader, it also has meant no blog posts. Do you see a theme developing here?
And then there’s the death of my parents. I’ve always been close to my cousins on my mother’s side, and Dad was the last of the parents from that generation to pass. He was 96. The first died back in 1981. I was talking with my brother who said, “Now, it’ll be one of us that goes next.” It was a stark reminder. The truth is I’ve already lost one of my cousins, who I loved dearly. But yes, we are the next generation to go. It is not fun being reminded of your own mortality in the midst of a time when you are mourning the passing of your parents, in the midst of a pandemic. Which again brings me to the blog posts.
I will write weekly again, soon. I promise. The book has to be done by the end of September. Until then I’ll be sitting by the fire on my patio with my laptop in my lap, editing away, looking at the beautiful sunsets ironically caused by the multitude of wildfires burning in Colorado. It’s a good metaphor for life – beauty amidst the burning.
Paula Stone Williams 
Ha, it is a good metaphor! Good luck with meeting the deadline and I wish you well!
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Thanks so much!
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Most welcome 🙂
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Blessings upon you, Paula! May the words and emotions flow quickly (and profusely), may your readers open their hearts to you words, and may God grant you peace and joy in this time of turmoil!! ❤️❤️🌈
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Thank you for your prayer, Karen. That was so thoughtful of you.
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Your plate is full. Hang in there. I’m praying for you.
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Thank you so much Ellen. I’ll be done with the second draft tomorrow.
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good luck with your writing, Sounds a very challenging task. A hint on finding the feelings. go back to the story, and listen to your body’s response. The emotions may be there. Another approach is to re write the story by hand, using your non-dominant hand. Often these approaches can allow long constructed walls to at least spring a leak.
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Thanks for your thoughts, Steph.
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You said one thing that is completely not true. You are a great writer! I only read the greats and I never miss reading anything by you.
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Thank you Marty. You are the best.
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If your book is as engaging and lovely as your blog posts, you’re going to do just fine. Breathe 🙂
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Thank you so much. I’m afraid I keep holding my breath.
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I have watched your TED talks several times and you express your emotions so well in the tone of your voice and in your body movements. Maybe if you watched and listened to yourself, you could sense what emotions you were conveying. I see a lovely, warm woman expressing compassion, empathy, tenderness, understanding, sympathy, forgiveness (for herself and others) and some regrets. Because I know the sound of your voice from listening to your messages, I can “hear” those same emotions when I read your writing as well. Love and prayers to you.
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Your words are so meaningful, Susan. Thank you so very much. And the truth is that I can express my emotions more easily speaking than writing. Go figure…
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Hang in there! You’ll do it!
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Thanks David.
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Hi Paula, I’m in early transition and learning to live with intention and rewriting my story (with help of a wonderful Boulder therapist)… I don’t know my feelings from my earlier memories because I didn’t have any. This was revealed a few years ago when introduced into a Dyad and I sat silent unable to explain my feelings/emotions, when the women around me were off to the races.. It was a real epiphany for me to realize I didn’t know my feelings.. at 57 yo!!..even during therapy sessions hitting my edge very quickly.. But estrogen is magical in its ability to provide a depth of feeling, reflection and connectedness to self and others. And with practice, meditation am now able to express my feelings… As you struggle to remember feelings you may not have had… I’m feeling you and appreciating you and your struggle this morning. Happy Sunday!!
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I’m so glad estrogen has had that effect on you, Rachel. God bless you on your journey.
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My condolences for the losses of 2 very important people. If you think about the story your telling it will be such a gift for those who are struggling especially if they are people of faith. Your story is inspirational rev dr William’s and it shows your strength at having to feel all those feelings again. I shall be buying your book and encouraging others to do so. Take care best wishes Louisa ablett porthcawl south Wales United kingdom.
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Thank you so much Louisa. I’m almost done with the second draft this evening – getting close.
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Paula, your book doesn’t have to get to great. If you can get it it to be Paula and authentic then that is more than enough. Maybe “great” is a value from your past life? Be kind to yourself…
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We’re always toughest on ourselves, aren’t we. Thanks, John, for your words.
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Paula, take care of you! We’ll be around. Your blog readers also want to read your book, so it’s a good trade-off to not get blog posts in favor or an upcoming book. The pandemic is struggle for everyone. My dad died in February and my sister stopped talking to me because I was named executor or exactly nothing. LOL. I think everybody is just doing their best. But this post was great to let us know that you haven’t fallen down a depression ledge. I mean – you might be depressed but that isn’t why you’re not posting! LOL. Keep at it – it’s all going to work itself out.
On Sat, Aug 29, 2020 at 10:23 AM Paula Stone Williams wrote:
> Paula S Williams posted: ” My deadline to get the second draft of my > memoir to my editor at Simon & Schuster is Monday night. I’ve been working > on it pretty much nonstop for the last few weeks. It has been mentally and > emotionally taxing. To have to go back to intimately p” >
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Thank you so much for your words of encouragement, and I am so sorry to hear about your father.
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You are a great writer! You underestimate yourself. I have learned so much from you. You have absolutely no idea how inspiring you are to so many people. Hang in there! Sending warm thoughts and prayers your way ♥
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Thank you so much. I sent in the second draft last night, so we’ll see what my editor says…
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As always, I find your blog posts deeply relatable and incredibly comforting. My sister is writing a memoir and struggling with much of the same. I can only imagine the struggle of revisiting painful memories and emotionally-complex moments now, in the middle of a pandemic. Be kind to yourself! (If nothing else, you’ve got a killer view for writing. I’m jealous.)
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Thanks Katie. It has been a weird time. I got the second draft in last night. It’ll be a couple of weeks before my editor gets it back to me for one last edit. I’m still not that pleased with it, but I do tend to demand a lot of myself. I’m thinkin’ you know what that feels like.
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