Can I solve this writing problem?

My memoir of early loss takes the “Fran” character from being a secure little girl whose boisterous, tomboy personality shines, to feeling as lost and frail as an abandoned baby animal, then through a meandering path of uncertain steps until she recognizes herself again as the smart, outspoken girl she was meant to be.

Parts of that path lead her to see that she isn’t obliged to and isn’t going to channel her mom’s unfinished life. She learns to see that she has an interesting, good life, full of freedom and inspiration. She can be who she is without abandoning her love for her mother and her roots.

The purpose of the book is to show the path the character creates step by step, rarely feeling that she knows what she’s doing, feeling as alone as if she were walking a tightrope in space, lacking solid ground under her feet. I need to show how each adolescent challenge felt like having to invent the wheel by myself. 

As I read my first draft and plan and outline the next one, I see that my draft is full of my preteen and teen struggle (in the 70s) to have a comfortable attitude towards boys. Maybe that that was the biggest struggle, one that represented growing up even more than did choosing a high school and college, learning to drive, and getting a job.

“Struggle to have a comfortable attitude towards boys” is what I said above. Is that the right phrase for this internally chaotic process? As one part of growing up — one part that intertwines with every other part — this young tween/teen protagonist has to _____________________ boys.

Phrases that fill the blank, like MadLibs!:

• “stop hating” boys
• “learn to enjoy talking with socially domineering, potentially dismissive” boys
• “learn to disregard the cruel boys and find the nice” boys
• “accept that she is very interested in a few (yet still prejudiced against all)” boys
• “protect herself less against some while still protecting herself like an armed fortress against most” boys
• “develop a more comfortable attitude towards” boys
• “go to school sock hops (at twelve) and be directly ordered by the gym teacher to dance with” boys
• “make absolutely sure she is not impregnated by, and her life thus ruined by” boys [per my dad’s lecture from before I was menstruating]

Everybody goes through the process of emerging sexuality, and it’s not easy for anybody — is it? My book has to show that my struggle with all this was unique and worse than it would have been had my mom lived — otherwise the book could have been written by anyone.

My struggle was harder without a mom because

• (1) I had nobody to coach me before or after a stressful interaction,
• (2) I would not confide in friends’ mothers (and let them help me) because certain other adults had been nosy about me vs boys, and I wanted privacy and dignity,
• (3) I didn’t know how to shop and dress like a tween/teen girl, so my appearance was easy to make fun of. (My dad and I ordered all my clothes from the Sears catalog, and I chose boys’ jeans and shirts.)

My “fear and loathing of boys while compulsively noticing the cute ones” was also mixed into every fun thing I did. I joined the other school’s high-school musical on the hope that those guys (and girls) would be nicer than the popular people at my high school. I took guitar lessons but never sought the opportunity to play with other kids because I already knew that female musicians were laughed at.

OK, those may be relatable, but do they have anything to do with not having a mom? 

I was more vulnerable in every way without my mom, and everything was exhausting. Every new thing felt like I had to keep a huge heavy ball rolling (again, without solid ground under my feet). But it’s harder to show what was lacking than it would be, say, to write a scene showing something really bad that happened. Nothing really bad happened to me physically, although I knew of a few victims of severe violence at my grade school. I was lucky, even without a mom, and I know that. So it’s hard to portray how difficult life was and to tie it directly to my early loss.

Also, the main arc of the book is as described in my first paragraph above: to recognize herself/myself again as the smart, outspoken girl she was meant to be. This isn’t just about being more comfortable with boys. But, like the realization in my teens that I was unable to hate boys, I now have to realize I am unable to not write about them. (If this were a teen journal entry, this paragraph would end with: “Yuck. Oh well.”)

So that’s the juicy writing problem that’s coming at me: tie every struggle to the early loss so that the reader can see it. Don’t just tell stories from the 70s that any girl from the 70s could tell. And don’t put too much focus on one strand.