The O.D.

I met with my writer/editor friend Jill yesterday to talk through the memoir project and (I hoped) hammer out some sort of outline or structure.

But what came out of our discussion wasn't about writing per se. It was about dreams. Somewhere in our conversation, I told her that the original incarnation of this dream, my big Paris writing dream, was very different than the thing I actually did.

My Original Dream (the O.D.) was to spend a year in Paris, write a novel and be fluent in French. The thing that happened was I spent a month in Paris, wrote a screenplay and spoke enough French to get groceries and coffee.

"So, you haven't lived your dream yet," Jill said matter-of-factly.

And then my ears started making that sound, you know the one, that high-pitched sound when your world just got ever so slightly rocked and you're not sure if you'll still be standing up in a minute.

What if I haven't lived my dream?

What if that month in Paris was the appetizer course of a meal I'm still starving for?

Yesterday was a hard day. Two people harangued me for pushing Paris back to February. My rack-up-the-word-count work style was criticized. I was with family all weekend and didn't touch my memoir for three days – which I've learned is the limit of my sanity. I said yes to having people over when I absolutely should have given myself that time to write. I haven't been sleeping. I am broke.

And it's entirely possible that I need to go to Paris for a year.

Someone reminded me that this Just One Year plan was about "givin' 'er for a year, right?" They said it casually, as though this was all in fun, this grand hobby I have. As though closing the door of my office and turning my cell phone off between the hours of X and X would cut it.

But, down in my secret places, I don't think it does. When you stay in your regular life, "they" can still get you. There's always going to be someone who needs a ride to the airport. And someone you haven't seen in ages who is demanding dinner next week. And the phone ringing and the email binging. There's always going to be vampires.

"Sometimes you have to give up one part of yourself to reveal another part." Is what Dana said.

"You must put your own oxygen mask on before you help anyone else." Is how Heather put it.

This great risk I feel compelled to take. The complete commitment I've put out there. Will it tolerate waiting six more months? Will it allow me to 'build up gradually' as though this was a workout program from some women's magazine? Will it accept compromise at all? Or will it keep clutching at me and scratching out my eyes until I submit completely? Until I let go of this person I keep trying to be and become the person I am.