I guess you already know that recently I had another blog. A whole three posts of a blog. One of those was some really great pictures of the geese growing up. I keep thinking about putting those on this one, but the problem with that (to me) is that a blog post is true only in the moment. Putting them on the other and then taking them retrospectively onto this seems dishonest, as though it isn’t in the spirit of blogging.
The point of that blog was to relate to the book, in theme if not content, but somehow that seemed a little dishonest too. Sure, the book is going to be published (in May), and its theme is loosely self-healing, but my own experiences that have required healing are light and fluffy in comparison to what so many others have known. To write about me in that context seems to trivalise the real tragedies that need healing power. People who really know should be (probably are) writing those up in a blog. My book is a work of fiction.
I want to be honest and open and fair. Autotherapy is a thriller with shades of vampire. It isn’t self-help, about healing or lessons learned; it’s about death and loss and recovery (or not) and it’s pretty blunt for some characters. I know a little of those things – enough to write home about anyway but mine is recovery in a most mundane way. Real life is filled with food and work and love and the point of this blog isn’t to pronounce on how to heal. It does document ongoing healing and learning processed mainly through the creation of food in an economic, wasteless, hedonistic way. Feed the soul and you stand a chance of improving this life. It may be a very loose connection, but I wrote the book and I write the blog and damnit, I’m going to stick with it.
Tonight: chicken liver pate, in all its bloody glory.