You write and write on your memoir, and everything you think of reminds you of something else that doesn’t fit just here, but you don’t know what to do with it. Monkey mind! you think. Adult ADHD, perhaps. How on earth am I ever going to sort this all out and make sense of it? Don’t you wish you could turn your head upside down over a newspaper — or maybe a clean sheet on the dining room table — and dump it all out, sort of like the picture you see here? Maybe then you could look at … [Read more...]