Writing My Book — Talking to the Sky

I could write a book about the crazy shit I've gone through while writing my book, Talking to the Sky. It's been a 13 year soul-testing, heart-wrecking, mind-bending journey through the process. I've had a spiritual breakdown, got TMJ, and my eyesight just pretty much just said, "Fuck you," and left. My OCD went into overdrive, and every day that I sat down to write, I started over on the chapter I had been working on the day before because I knew I could do it better. This went on endlessly day after day. I struggled with paralyzing self-doubt and fought that little nonstop fucker in my head that won't shut up... "You don't know what you're doing. You're never going to finish this book. You've wasted over a decade and everybody thinks you're fucking crazy."

I got to the point where I couldn't even talk about my book without crying. I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't know how to do it, but it felt like something in the universe wanted me to write this book. Even when I prayed for God to take this dream out of my heart, it didn't budge. It was running my life and felt like a rotten abscess that I just had to get out, but I didn't know how to finish it. I was lost in words that were all beginning to look the same. My world is like that movie A Beautiful Mind, except for me, it’s words instead of numbers. I was stuck for years writing and rewriting. The book worked its way into my dreams, and I felt like I would never finish it.

I went everywhere I could think of for help. I drove to Monroeville, Alabama to stalk the legendary and reclusive author, Harper Lee. To Kill a Mockingbird is one of my favorite books and one of the biggest books of all time. I thought if anybody could help me, it was her, but that trip turned into an absolute heartbreak, mind- rape, nightmare disaster, and I'll probably never be all the way over it.

When I returned to Nashville, I wrote Harper Lee a letter trying to make sense of what happened on my trip and about the struggle of writing my book. We corresponded for over a year.

I wrote a short story (Harper in my Heart ❤️) about that experience that I’ll post later.

I went to the Tony Robbins event, Unleash the Power Within. I loved it so much and got so pumped up. I felt almost ecstatic. My husband Chris almost shit his pants when he found out that in the spur of the moment, I purchased tickets to the next Tony Robbins seminar. The tickets were $10,000 and it was in Fiji. the plane tickets were almost $3,000, but I needed help.

The second seminar was called “Business Mastery.” It must have been meant to be for us to go to that event. Tony Robbins and I got in an intense, ten minute screaming, cussing, surreal showdown and it was awesome. By the end, we were both crying. You know you’ve got some crazy shit going on if you make Tony Robbins cry.

I can't believe I'm posting the audio, but it happened in front of over 200 people and it helped a lot of them and made me realize how -- we really are all the same. Everybody's aching for something. Here's a link to the audio. It's intense, crazy emotional and vulnerable, but if it helps anybody out there, it's worth it.

I drove to Georgia to take a writing class from Pulitzer Prize winning author, Rick Bragg. He's from Alabama and our hometowns are 15 minutes apart. I asked him so many questions in a row, so fast that he started yelling at me and cussing, "If you'll let me answer the damn question."

I talked to one of my favorite authors, Maya Angelou, on the phone. The first words she said to me, "I'm so glad the deciding genies have put us together," and chills shot down my arms. WHEN I imagine the voice of God, it's hers.

I went to the Oprah seminar, Live Your Best Life, and randomly met her in the workout room where I had one of my most embarrassing moments (and almost nothing embarrasses me). I told the actor Jamie Foxx what happened backstage at an awards show. he laughed so hard choked on his drink.

The Oprah story is nuts and I’ll BLOG ABOUT THAT LATER...

Eventually, I realized that even the most influential, inspirational people in the world didn’t have the little golden key I was looking for. I had to find it inside me. I think it was fear paralyzing me and the overwhelming feeling that I did not know what I was doing.

Only God knows the mental hell I put myself through with this book and my OCD. I know I've got some kind of soul scars from this shit, but the simple fact that I finished my book proves to me 100% for sure that anybody can do anything. It would be easier to write songs backwards and climb Mount Everest in a blindfold than the shit show I WENT THROUGH trying to finish this book. I'm on the very last edit and I feel like I'm about one good night's sleep away from a psych ward. I totally get why authors load their pockets down with stones and walk into lakes or stick their heads in ovens. The suicide rate is off the charts for authors, and now I know why, because writing books drives people fucking crazy. I have no true idea of why I wrote my memoir except for that I never had a choice. My prayer is that it helps people. That will make it worth it. Just like the first line OF THE BOOK: "All my greatest gifts have come wrapped in ribbons of pain."