A beginning

As I find myself increasingly introduced as "Jody, who is writing a book" I have begun to realise that writing the book is a beginning not an end. I am very aware of myself as someone in transition - I am not who I was - the past months could hardly have left me untouched - but I am not yet sure who I am. Of course I write the book from who I am today not who I was when I was 15 (when I decided to join the Army), 19 (when I did) or 26 (when I went to Bosnia). The clarity of the memories that have brought me to today surprise me. It's in those moments when I remember the smell and taste of Army life and life in Bosnia that I sit easy as it reminds me that I do have an essential core. It was there then and it is here now, it is the subtext to everything I write, it is part of the way I write.
Perhaps that is why I am called to write the book today, to remind me, to bring me back to the simple truths. I wasn't a hero then and I am not now, I am driven to know and understand my world, can be concurrently intense while lacking interpersonal engagement and, sometimes, I am funny, lite and delight in the oddness of life. Best discovery, as I write, I really do want to be candid, to not withhold, to be honest about how I saw things and how I saw myself.
Mostly too I am reminded that I have always enjoyed the previllige (with some notable exceptions) of surrounding myself with remarkable people. Is it possible that the book becomes the tangible output but it is really the intangible rewards that will be worth celebrating?

Hrumpf

Today I am writing feelings.................it makes me feel odd and takes me back in time in a new and different way.

A challenge

I've been offered an unexpected challenge. What is it people actually want to read in the book? A book that no one reads is not, for me, a book. Defintion 3 in the Mirriam Webster Dictionary is the book I want to write. A book is a published thing that people are invited to read, it hits the mark when it is read. If that isn't true then I have already written many books. They sit idle in my computer or hand written long ago. When I came back from Bosnia I quickly realised that people wanted a sad, bad and funny story. Nothing else. I dutifully delivered all three "stories" and could quietly walk away from conversation when I had delivered. The book is different. People who choose to read it want and need more than that. Nobody cares a damn about the historical facts. If you wanted historical facts you wouldn't read my book - although they are important to the book. People may be interested in the mechanical details, how I got there, what it took, all the glue that holds the story together. Arrrrrrrrrrrgh the other reader, the one I covert, really care to know how I felt and what it tasted like. A good yarn is a good yarn. A good autobiograhpy touches a nerve, it resonates, it leaves the reader with a feeling and a taste - that is what I want to write, that is what I am trying to write. The limit is clear (at least to me). While I do "feel things", when talking to others I intellectualise those feelings. I don't do it consciously but I can always see it retrospectively. My challenge is to have the reader be engaged with how I felt, not read it and feel nothing but vague intellectual engagement (okay some of the readers can - but not all). I am climbing my own Mt Everest.

Starting out

Having committed to writing the book.......and I am committed....... it's been surprisingly easy to get the early words on paper. It is as if the words have been brewing inside me, waiting to come out. It's proving to be much more than I expected. In the end it will cover not only my time in Bosnia but the path that lead me here. Given Michelle was there at the beginning it is ironic to have her here at the end - or the beginning of something new. She reminds me of somethings I have forgotten that are important to the story. Although she is still heavily emersed in writing her Phd being an observer has also reminded me of the need for rigour in my writing. Some stories I tell are as I remember them, there is no official record they are dredged up from my memories. The real challenge is recognizing how these stories need to be woven around the historical facts. As much as it is all about me, it is also all about what happened. How did the war begin? What are the important dates and times? Who were the key players? I'm not an historian so this all makes me a little nervous. I really don't care if people disagree with how I remember my stories (they are mine) but I do care that I get the facts right. I have an unofficial "military advisor" who will, I hope, help me with the military facts, I have a "ghost editor" who is making sure that the whole thing hangs together and I don't make a complete fool of myself. I think I need a "fact checker" - someone who will check my historical accounts, double check dates and make sure the text links to the official record. I am getting most of my facts from the internet and some will come with the papers I have in NZ; it is proving to be an unexpected addition to the writing process, athough as it dawned on me the importance of this detail, the detail is, I think, making the text more interesting.

"Life is too short to remain unnoticed"

Several years ago I was given a mouse pad with this Salvador Dali quote. It was a joke, but not. The full quote is "I'm an exhibitionist; life is too short to remain unnoticed". As canvases mouse pads don’t lend themselves to more than the briefest of insights. I’ve always loved this one.
I am writing an autobiography, which could lead people to think I am an exhibitionist……based on at least one definition:
*Someone with a compulsive desire to expose the genitals*……I don’t think so.
Based on the second definition I could be:
*The act or practice of behaving so as to attract attention to oneself.*
Like most people I like attention and, like most people, I am particular about the type of attention I like. I have an ego. Much of my professional life has most assuredly attracted attention. I’ve chosen or found myself in roles that have given me a public presence; not as me but as a spokesperson or by virtue of appointment. I’m not sure why that is. Most that know me would, I think, agree that I am mostly very private. I am a natural introvert. I draw my energy from my time alone. I like people, but not all the time. I am shy and not always sure how to be in a crowd. It takes me time to trust, to tell my deepest thoughts. I am also simple and like to laugh easily. I am not at all fragile, although easily hurt by those I love; in a child like way.
The autobiography I am writing is about me and my experience. Of the estimated 14,000 books written about the United Nations in Bosnia only a small fraction are personal stories. Less than an estimated 3% are first hand accounts, and none have been written by a woman soldier. As far as I know no other New Zealand female service woman has ever written a book (if you know her or of her, please let me know).
If I write well this book will, for a short time, bring attention, it will be noticed.
I am ready. I am more ready than I was ready to be the soldier that went to Bosnia; I am more ready than I was to be the spokesperson for all those other organizations that had me be their voice in public forums; I am more ready than I was when losing my job became so public; I am more ready than I have ever been to be noticed. Why? Because the past made me ready to commit to having serving women’s stories told as we would have them told. This is the beginning.