We’re all thinking about it all the time. And we’re hearing about it all the time.
But in a sideways “mistakes were made” past exonerative way.
What is it?
In a lot of ways, it’s written about and spoken about in the same way we hear about mistakes ‘being made’ as though nobody’s participating, everyone’s just watching.
And it’s not just soldiers we hear about ‘being killed’. Or ‘being gunned down’ in the night.
It’s normalized now. This phrase, “they were killed,” or “bodies were discovered,” or “the body count increased.” I find it almost, but not quite as bad as, “she passed away.” (Truth is, though, it’s all bad and dehumanizing; designed to pull us away from experiencing our own connection to our own mortality.)
Nobody. Not you, not me. Nobody wants to, in their final hour, become a number in a body count. And yet, we’re not outraged about the fact that death, more each day, becomes a numbers game?
You might not be, but I am.
I’m pissed off and I’m not gonna take it anymore, so I write, for my own well-being, and perhaps for the well-being of the future. I invite you to write. Not when you’re retired (unless you are). Not in some mythical future where all your ducks are in rows (they never will be). Now. Write your experience, not scribbles in notebooks, nor on the digital equivalent, digital status updates. Instead, I invite you to consider taking the time each day. Reflect on your singular experience. Get one well-focused set of eyeballs dedicated to reading what you’ve written (for those of you taking the guided Write journey).
Now, while you’re living.
Now, while you can.
Just the e-book. You get:
The living book option gets you one on one attention to your writing and craft, from me, starting in September 2014.
We start 15 September and run through 15 October.
When I get confirmation of your payment, I add your name to a custom-built-for-you Gitlab repo.
When we start, you send me your responses to prompts via a Git push and I’ll respond in-line and help you shape your technomemoir in 30 days.
Work at your own pace, just get it done in 30 days.
I’ll work at your digital side daily from 15 September to 15 October 2014.
By mid-October, you’ll have a book you’ve created with input from yours truly. This September become a better writer.
The focus? Tech and memoir. Technomemoir.
It’s for you if
Since we’ll be working together for a month, you’ll want to know what I’ve done that makes me qualified. These are the beta tests I’ve conducted.
Nutgraf: I’ve worked with thousands of writers as they create writing they’re proud of. From 2009 to 2014 I wrote and self-published a dozen books. The weirder the world gets, the more vital it is to me that people not just tell their stories. That they get them committed, that they shape them into something worth reading. That they write before they die. We don’t know how long we have. But something history has taught us is this: our stories last.
Not just that.
Stories have the power to trump facts. And, for that matter, statistics.
Your status updates to a social network add up to nothing. In fact, at the next VC meeting, your status update is a statistic. A number in the balance sheet. The day that seemingly permanent “platform” is powered down is the moment what you thought of as your digital self is poof gone.
The alternative is a deliberate collection, written with meaning and purpose.
I’d read that.
And indeed, if you pay me to do so, starting this September I will.
You’re the only one who can answer that question. Because you want to become a writer. Because you are a writer and want to become a better one.
Because you want to reflect on your singular experience and then tell it in a way that others want to (perhaps) hear.
Because you want to be asked, and answer, hard questions. Why do you want to write before you die? Only you can answer that. You can get the guide, write responses to all the prompts. Then step back at the end of October 2014 and say, “I wrote a book.”
But, what if you were part of the beta test group and started writing your technomemoir in August? Answer: let me know. If you’ve written your technomemoir, you have my contact information; we’re beta testing something new starting now.