You know what would be lovely? If I could write, uncensored, and without fear of repercussions from those I happen to want to write about. Sure, I talk plenty of shit in my book-in-progress, but that's all self-depricating humor. And since I don't have a problem discussing the size of my ass, there really isn't a problem there, right?
So much is going on right now that would make for some great scenes in my memoir. But because truth hurts and I have too much respect for family and loyalty to many who don't still deserve it, I'll stay mum and keep the internal dialogue on a loop in my head until I can find the cajones to sit down and write up a nice little fiction bit. Names changed, circumstances altered, the whole works.
The rest will come easy enough. My life is a novel in progress. That's what happens when looking at the world through the eyes of a writer.