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I have to fight writing “Son Of A Preacher Man: The Journey To Becoming Daniel Mallory Ortberg, Trekking The Transformative Expedition Voyages Of Emergence, Shiftwards Into Developmental Form: An Odyssey In Two Genders: Pilgrimage To Ladhood” every day that I am alive. I do not know how much longer I can restrain the impulse.
Chapter One: A Description Of An Outdoor Picnic, And A Flashback
Chapter Two: A Forced-Poetic Description Of My Hormone Delivery System
Chapter Three: My Male Privilege? My Male Privilege Seems So Fraught But I'm Also Scared About My Male Privilege
Chapter Four: *Extremely Paula Cole Voice* Where Have All The Tomboys Gone
Chapter Five: An Extensive Water-Based Metaphor
Chapter Six: Have You Heard Of Mermaids/Centaurs/Sirens/Sphinxes/Butterflies/Snakes/Werewolves/Any Cryptid? Well You’re Going To Hear About Them Now
Chapter Seven: Maiden, Mother, Crone, Mothman
Chapter Eight: Footnotes, For Legitimacy
Chapter Nine: An Exhaustive Recounting Of Every Crush I Have Ever Had, Tagged And Exhibited, Followed By Six Pages Of Layman’s Chemistry
Chapter Eleven: What If Masculinity, But In A Soft Drape-y Jacket
Chapter Twelve: In Which I Interview Every Man Who Refused To Walk Through A Door I Held Open For Them Before Transition And Inform Them That They Are Retroactively Gay Now
Chapter Thirteen: “Liminal”
Chapter Fourteen: In Which I Rescue Masculinity By Taking Up Weightlifting, Heroically
Chapter Titles From My Upcoming On-The-Nose, Embarrassingly Po-Faced Transmasculine Memoir
An opportunity like this for the title "Son of a Preacher Man" will probably never present itself again.
If not now, when?