You Better Work, B.
It’s windy today. June-uary is in full swing here in Washington. I am almost done with what will hopefully be the last draft of my first book. When I say “the last draft” I know it won’t be. I know that if my book gets picked up one day, I will undoubtedly need to rewrite a vast majority. But for today, I hope it will be the last draft because damnit it’s been six years since I started this project. Granted, when I did start piecing together ideas it was nothing like the near-finished version sitting on my computer and backup hard drive. Nothing. But still.
I was making dinner last night for my family, and realizing I started this book six years ago. Six. My son was only two years old and now he is eight. That is insane. Anyway, I started beating myself up about taking so long to finish things I had created, and then I realized that while I have been writing this deep book I’ve also been learning how to write. How to better my craft. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a lot of work to do, but I can see a noticeable difference in my work today compared with what I put out six years ago. Maybe that’s why I don’t blog as often as I would like. I’m afraid of some “real” writer stumbling upon this tiny website, reading through my posts, correcting grammar, and shaking their head at poorly punctuated sentences. When in reality, I doubt anybody out there reads any of my posts. And I’m ok with that. For right now at least. I know that I have a hunger deep in my belly to succeed in this industry. I don’t mean the bestseller, or making a livelihood, although both would be nice. I mean getting better at this thing that I have loved since I was a child. Putting thought to paper and in doing so touching the soul of another human. If I can improve, if I can help someone through what I have put out into the world, I will consider myself a success. I realize how naive and romantic this might sound, but there I go again, trying to belittle my ability to save face to someone who might not even exist. There I go trying to convince the voices in my head that I deserve to put forth my thoughts and ideas into the world.
In my last job, which was also creative I could hide behind a brand name and products, but this…this is different. Which is why I love it. Which is why it terrifies me. Everything is all wrapped up together. Everything is spread bare. My tea is gone now, so this blog post must be over. I will continue to think about it as I go upstairs and put my dirty mug in the kitchen. As I put on my shoes and jacket, and go pick up the kids from school. I will ponder these thoughts as I make dinner tonight, and help small legs step into pajamas. I will think over them as I kiss foreheads goodnight and say a prayer over each of them. By the end of the evening, I will probably remember that everyone, including myself, has a right to practice their art, as long as they are willing to do the work, and I have never been afraid of hard work. Tomorrow I will get up and in the few quiet minutes during the twins’ rest time I will plop myself down at this computer, and I will work.
-Helen