Foreword

The start of writing a book is kind of like when someone asks you what your favorite food is – suddenly your mind fills with static.  Every taste that’s ever run across your tongue is just mysteriously absent from memory.

“Pizza? Do I like pizza?  Did pizza just come to mind because that’s what everyone’s favorite food is?  I don’t want to be like everyone else.  I do always request lasagna when I come home, but do I like it enough to deem it my favorite dish?  I make soup a lot… but I don’t want to be branded as that fatphobic girl who’s trying to live off of water and celery.  What do I like?  Do I really have a favorite anything?

Similarly, when you sit down to write a book (a pursuit you only haphazardly thought through 5 minutes ago,) you lose any sense of direction.

Tapping your fingers against the still keys, you ask, “well, what do I even want to say?  What do I know enough about to write an entire book on it, other than myself?  But wait, do I actually know myself?  What if I start writing this book and realize that I know absolutely nothing and that four years of college and three years of therapy have taught me that I’m just as lost as I was at 16?  How do you structure paragraphs even?  I always get confused on when is an appropriate time to break

into another paragraph.  Who am I to think I have anything new worth writing about anyway?”

I wish I could tell you where in the world this book is going, but I haven’t figured it out just yet.  Anyway, see you in Chapter 1.