It comes to me in the first waking moments of the morning: the first chapter is not the first chapter. The second chapter is the first chapter, and the first chapter is the fifth chapter.
This, after spending an entire day on revisions of the book I’m working on, and not getting past the second page. It was a productive day, even though it wasn’t, because I identified a stumbling block that needed to be moved aside so the work could move forward.
Writing, it seems, is much like life.
I read a few words from Parker Palmer who speaks of peace that “lies on the other side of anguish, if we are willing to walk into rather than around” and the sweetness that comes when “the void is filled with love”. It’s as if he has written the synopsis for me.
Today, back to the writing desk to chip away a bit more.
That’s it in a nutshell, Linda: “It was a productive day, even though it wasn’t, because I identified a stumbling block that needed to be moved aside so the work could move forward.” You are wise to observe progress, baby steps and huge strides alike.
About sequence: One of my last chapters in my memoir appears as chapter 1, though the two halves of this chapter (The Bishops) became bookends, beginning and (almost) ending the book.
I admire you for taking on the challenge of another book, having already gone through the travail of your first memoir. Brava!