Future projects, and a SYAK excerpt about moving on

So I have some ideas for new writing projects...the question is whether grad school will allow me the time to work on them. I decided that I need to find more user-friendly subjects, ones where readers aren't slapped in the face by a specific agenda (not that certain agendas aren't worth writing about). At the same time, I don't want to write mindless fluff. I want my work to entertain, but to also have purpose. The next novel I have in mind is one that is lighter and culturally significant, without being heavy-handed (so I hope). A fellow self-published friend has inspired me to take on the challenge of an anti-romance story, where the flawed protagonist learns what it's like to live "productively single."

Okay, so it's probably going to end up being a chick-lit novel. But an encouraging one, I hope.

As for the second writing project...that might be another memoir about being the odd Jewish kid out in seminary land, and the struggle to be a Jew-turned-Christian without being labeled a Messianic Jew. Call it a sequel to Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter, maybe. But that one won't be completed until I finish seminary, understandably. We'll see how that goes. I might just go the traditional publishing route next time, but that world is far less predictable, and much more competitive.

I like self-publishing because I get to be in control of everything from the cover design to the pricing, but traditional publishers are more efficient about getting your work out there for the world to read. But the world is teeming with aspiring writers, and it's hard to imagine that my ideas are unique enough to land a spot among the best of the best. Sigh...

In the mean time, here's another excerpt from Someone You Already Know, about getting your life back after surviving a tragedy:

For the last several days, I’ve been obsessed with Googling “rape culture” and sifting through the thousands of results. It’s amazing just how much information is out there, though not all of it is helpful. There’s the occasional advertisement from a well-intentioned (I’m sure) advocacy group that basically says “This is what happens when you don’t use the buddy system,” or guard your drink at parties, hitch-hike, et cetera. A girl with her skirt tangled around her ankles, apparently unconscious, was shown in one. Quite a guilt trip for someone who just didn’t know any better!

     I have wondered just how different That Day might have been if Elisabeth had been with me. Would the attacker have targeted her, too? Or is there really strength in numbers?

     Ever the voice of reason, Cleary is quick to chime in with “It’s dangerous to play that ‘What If’ game, Katherine. You have no control over what’s already happened. You need to focus on the situation right in front of you.” 

     I know she’s right. But that doesn’t make my new post-victim life any easier. I’ll always have questions and doubts. Not having the perpetrator to direct these to is frustrating. But maybe there are some things I’m better off not knowing.

     What I am noticing is how many of these websites contain statistics and blurbs about preventing assault; not so much in the way of survivors sharing their stories. I can’t say I’m eager to share mine, but surely there has to be someone out there who is older than me, wiser than me, and toughed-up enough to no longer have shame about what happened to her. The more I keep reading, the more I feel this fire in my gut to not allow my experience to be wasted. I can’t accept that a part of me has permanently shut down. 

     But how can that happen when the memories still haunt me? When I still wake up sweating in the middle of the night, because the nightmares won’t leave me alone? How can I make people understand the significance of the trauma without scaring them out of living their lives?

     For anyone who wonders what it’s like to have a tragedy shatter your very existence, this is what I would tell them: it’s like going through the motions of everyday life in a zombified state. It’s like having outbursts of anger for what seems like no apparent reason, for even the smallest of offenses. It’s like forgetting how to be your once cheerful, perky self, and having to re-learn basic social skills when mingling with new people (especially if those people are ignorant, or just plain terrible at showing sympathy). It takes a while to re-learn all those basic skills. But maybe, just maybe…it’s possible. Maybe you have to want your life back first, before it can start repairing itself. But then you also have to accept the hard fact that the mending process may take the rest of your natural life. I don’t think there’s a set time limit for it. 

     Getting your life back will also mean taking the risk of going to all the places you used to go, wearing your old clothes, hanging out in the same places, knowing full well that the person who attacked you could be there, too, watching. But real empowerment is not allowing evil to prevail by hiding.

     You can’t ever know how you’ll react to something unless it happens to you. It doesn’t help to speculate over what ifs. But it helps to be prepared. Being prepared is to know anything that happens to you doesn’t have to leave you broken. It just leaves you with a story to tell.