For the present, the book Heaven Admin suggested that I write I’m calling The Little Things.

Sally, you were right. Heaven Admin suggested that I write the story of my life. Story of my life is more acceptable to me than autobiography. The word I like least of all is memoir.

Memoir kinda turns me off. Everyone’s life is made of interesting ingredients. There are memoir-writing classes all over the place. Of course, people write memoirs for many reasons, and no one is required to have a reason beyond the fact that they choose to write it. That is reason enough — except it is not reason enough for me.

Many write memoirs for the clearing and healing it may give. That’s not enough reason for me right now. Besides, I’m not sure that going over the past heals it.

Regardless, for myself — and I speak only for myself — there has to be more to it. No matter how interesting the story, no matter how healing it may be to write it, there has to be more to it. I’ve got too much else to do.

At this point in my life, for me to do it, there has to be something in it for someone else, and that would be the reader. There would have to be a reason for it to be read. The story has to lead somewhere. There has to be a point to it.  Otherwise,  it would be purely self-indulgence. I don’t have time nor inclination for that. I want to get past ego. I demand to get past ego.

God in Heavenletters™ so clearly tells us to move away from the past and self-preoccupation with it.  Why would I go there? Okay, all these wonderful things and terrible things occurred in our childhoods, but, now, so what? Get on with life and not your remembered history. The past is simply not important now.

Furthermore, if there is a point to my life, it is Heavenletters, and Heavenletters speak for themselves.

So Santhan’s suggestion for another writing project went over and over in my mind. I won’t say I spent sleepless nights, yet during the night my mind was going back and forth about it. The idea wouldn’t leave me alone.

Little by little a point for the story seemed to surface. It could become more than the mere recounting of what took place.  Ideas came to me. The title came to me. And then paragraphs wanted to be written, and so I wrote them down.

This is not Godwriting™, yet now I am impelled to write my story in pretty much the same way that I am impelled to write Heavenletters, and, I believe, that writing from the angle I mean to will serve Heavenletters.

In any case, The Little Things has begun.