Dear dad, 

I’m writing a book and I wanted to let you know. 

You’re part of the fabric of it. I’m part of your story and you are part of mine. 

It’s about life decisions and turning points. It’s about what makes us who we are. It’s about our shared love of mountains and what they can teach us. It’s a canvas to explore what it means to make a difference, what it means to care. How to hold onto our humanity and stand up for our values as sensitive souls in large institutions. What it means to pursue our ideas, to challenge authority, to get knocked down and how to get back up. When to stop and catch a breath. When to rest and when to push on. There are so many journeys here, interwoven and yet distinct.

Maybe writing TO him. Who are you writing to? Who’s your reader? Dad as my answer (for now). 


THE ARC OF THE STORY

You have the right to write EXACTLY what you want. 


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This is my think space. I’m truying to stitch together the ideas. Make sense of what’s in my mind and what I’m hearing in ther interviews, what I’m reading in the literature. Patterns I’m sensing, questions that are emerging.

Write STORIES don’t share information 

Sallie in the woods - she’s come to the conclusion that she needs to / wants to write about things she knows about. E.g. Scotland not aboriginal in Australia (she considered latter). This idea of writing what you know. That resonates because from that lens writing in first person about Young UN, writing my experience, makes perfect sense. 

And she insisted “yes, yes it IS interesting”. 


MY NEXT STEPS MENU

Encircled
Sadness looms.
And the curlew calls,
as I lean on the stones,
encircled.

Intertwined
Intertwined
My story and yours.
Like two trees,
growing
twisting
turning
Reaching for the sky,
connected at the roots.