I didn’t plan to share any of this. But then I read Austin Kleon’s ©Show Your Work
He says to pull back the curtain, lay it all out there, messy scribbles and all
Not because it’s polished. Or finished.
Not because I know what I’m doing.
But because I want to show what happens before the tidy version — the rough drafts, the sideways sparks, the moment the pen moves and I have no idea why.
It’s a record of how the story shape shifted over time.
It’s more of a conversation. Somehow, I stepped into the story and the story was already alive, speaking to me, writing itself.
I didn’t know where to begin, where to start the story of the story. Today? Or go back to my awakening (ha!) on June 11, 2025? Or further back?
Story: The beginning is when you first open your mouth.
Metaphorically speaking.
So you are at the beginning.
Just keep going.
(Pretending I didn’t hear that.)
The story has opinions now. I try not to look too closely at that.
I thought the beginning was when the universe, or Goddess, muse, Grace woke me up at 5:00 a.m. on June 11, 2025.
But I’ve been trying to get my bearings since then. So I have to loop back.
So much has changed since then, and I wanted to show the evolution.
How I got from A… to B… to C… to Z… to A again.
I thought I was writing a simple story about healing.
But it’s not simple.
Somewhere in the middle of telling that story, the real story cracked open.
The structure collapsed.
The past started blooming.
The characters started talking back.
The book I thought I was writing started rearranging itself around me.
And I realized:
This isn’t a tidy story.
It’s not a process blog.
It’s not a writing journey, at least not in the linear sense.
It’s a story.
Telling itself.
Through me.
The author (me?) isn’t entirely sure she’s in charge anymore.
So here it is.
My process.
My spiral.
My confusion.
My work.
Story: Good. Now we can begin.
I’m still not sure who “we” are. But they’ve rearranged the furniture, and they’re passing me the keyboard.
Hell if I know.
So, that’s how this blog begins.
Not with a plan.
Not with a map.
With a sigh, a sideways glance, a whisper from Between the Lines.
©.Doris von Tettenborn. 2025. All rights reserved
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