I never intended to write a book, or blog. I wrote a book, and now, I blog, in order to sell the book, so said my publisher. I wrote the book because mine is a skeptical family, who will scorn me out if proven to have offered an uninformed conclusion. If I don’t sell a book, I feel anyway, that I met my mission.
My mission seemed simple; to find my grandfather’s birth document and identify his mother’s heritage from mid-19th century Scotland, and then to inform my family. First half done; second, to roll out this week. The effort, though, revealed that his birth was illegitimate, and he was adopted outside his biological family. Same for his non-related cousin. Such posed huge problems for moving forward. I was able to propose eight parents to cover the two adoptees. However, typical of their time, there existed no documents of adoption, and story-telling had to substitute for DNA certainty, over parent selection.
How to present the tons of “proof” data, from a five year research effort? Write, cite and caveat. Then to throw it up to the cloud so my worldwide family could capture, and others could cannibalize? Or, copyright. So now, the researcher who is not a writer, is stuck with a book and a blog. OK, I admit, it is fun.