September 21, 2003
I feel as though I am approaching the end of an era with regards to the last several months. As it draws near, I feel as though I have to tread gently, kindly and cleverly but it’s not easy because as I am feeling both confused and angry.
I’m not entirely sure what to do about a particular project I’m working on right now for someone. I worry that things could take a turn for the worse by deciding not to do and act the way some are expecting. I sometimes think someone else has more control over my career than I do and I sometimes fear that they would take control over it out of retaliation. However, the reality though, is that they – nor anyone else – are not in control of me. Ultimately, I am. Always.
I believe it’s crucial right now for me to keep remembering this and act accordingly so that I can bring this era to the right kind of ending.
Dec. 17, 2002
A part of me feels genuinely humiliated for sharing two recent (and huge) failures, understanding now why so many people keep their dreams tucked so quietly within them. To admit when something doesn’t work out is not only personally humbling, but publicly embarrassing.
People love to watch other people climbing the ladder of success. They cheer them on enthusiastically and do all they can to be supportive. Once they’re near the top though, it’s all a different story. Suddenly, the world fills up with folk who are hanging around eagerly anticipating your downfall. This, I discovered, is true for me.
During the poll that I recently setup, a couple of wicked letters poured in and while generally I know the authors and their motivations behind such letters, it was still upsetting to read them.
Why someone would take so much time out of their life to sit down and write a long, nasty letter about someone else was mind boggling to me. I wanted to discount it but at first, the letter had weight because I thought on some level they were right; I had failed and perhaps I wasn’t any good at what I was doing.
Then I realised that out of one thousand letters, only two were negative, which meant that I must have done something right.
I began to realise from the answers to my poll who my real audience was and what they really thought of my book. All but two of the answers were a huge YES! All but two of the answers were, “leave the book as it is!” All but two of the answers were, “Thank-you for writing.”
People had let me known that they wanted the same kind of book that I want – what’s already been written on the web. They let me know that they too didn’t want a self-help book or guide. They let me know that something I did, meant something.
Their feedback helped me to realise that although I still have targets to reach I have already accomplished several things of importance. It also means that I have much to lose and that certain people would now be only too pleased to help me lose it. However, I am not going to give them that opportunity.
Walt Disney once said Get a good idea and stay with it. Dog it, and work at it until it’s done, and done right.
With that, I am going to continue to fight to get my book published. I’m going to modify it, enhance it but not take away from the core which is the basic, simply telling of a journey. No gucking it up, no preaching and no morning pages to add to it. It’s my book and I’m going to get it published my way.
Arrogant? No, just determined.
Dec. 08, 2002
Slowly I was starting to form answers to questions I didn’t even know I had asked. Sometimes these answers made sense and sometimes I was left confused, unsure what to do with them.
The only thing I knew for certain was that I was standing at the same jumping off point that I was on April 08th 2001. The point where I knew I had to move forward but I was completely scared to move even one foot.
In April 2001, I got a gentle but firm push from a tarot reader. Did I really need her at that point? Did Dorothy really have to follow the yellow brick road? Of course not, I already had the answer, I was just afraid to act on what I knew. I was afraid to be responsible for a decision that might turn out to be wrong. So I put it in the hands of the Tarot Reader.
In my indecision over the past couple of months, I decided to once again give this woman I didn’t know, my power. I knew where I was, I knew how I felt and I knew that I had to go somewhere. I just didn’t want to be responsible for it. That’s when I called her.
I thought if I spoke with her I’d have the same experience the first time. She’d give me direction, she’d tell me what I needed to hear. She’d make my life work because I just couldn’t.
When I drove up to her place I didn’t want to knock on the door and was relieved to find out she wasn’t there. Driving away I didn’t feel sad to have missed her – I was elated.
It took me until midnight to figure out why.
I didn’t need some woman, no matter how great her insight, to tell me how to move forward. I’ve proven over and over that no matter what, I know how to do that. Despite fear, despite failure, despite rejection, I have always moved forward and quite loudly.
I know what I need to do and it’s simple:
I just need TO DO. No more waiting, no more wondering, no more what ifs or should have’s or want tos. It’s all about the doing.
If I want to paint I will. If I want to sing on stage I will. If I want to write a book I will. If I don’t want to be just a writer I won’t be. I don’t need cards to tell me I’m different, my toes wiggling tell me that.
This time around I gave myself my own push. I’m ready to jump and I don’t need a net.
Dec. 03, 2002
It’s that time of year again when the advent calendars are being opened, the Christmas lights turn on and you can play Charlie Brown’s Christmas CD once again.
I’m a huge holiday girl for many reasons but most of all because it’s such a creative and simple time of year. Growing up with Danish Traditions, our home was decorated, crafts were made, cards were written, Sunday candles lit and cookies were baked.
Christmas has been the one time of year when I create without worry because those who I create for – friends and family – seem to appreciate it regardless of how well it turns out. This has always given me freedom and I never realised how much I needed that until my break these past couple months.
Removing pressure from any situation always makes it better but sometimes, it’s a very hard thing to do. When I began to make my cards this year I was at first filled with frustration – it didn’t look like what I had in mind. But then I remembered that when I was six it didn’t matter. What mattered were the moments that it took to make them. Remembering that, I dove in and played with sparkles, glue and coloured pencils. It didn’t matter that it didn’t turn out like the picture, what mattered was that I did it and enjoyed every minute.
Dec. 01, 2002
Chris has been taking guitar lessons for the past year and a half as music is something he is quite passionate about. Music is to him what writing is to me and in many ways, we’ve been going on the same journey.
He announced to his teacher yesterday that he felt that for the moment, he had to stop going to his lessons. Not because he had come to hate the guitar, but because he wanted to keep being in love with it. He told her that the weekly pressure to perform and learn things and play by the rules had sucked out his creativity and his passion. He was no longer playing to hear the music, but to learn a tune to impress her. He also told her that he felt he had gone as far as he could with the lessons and wanted to take a break and in the future, try something new. He told her he had felt this way for awhile but was afraid to admit it at first, because he thought if he stopped he would stop the guitar altogether. But he realised that the music is in him and just because he stops for a little while, doesn’t mean he’ll stop forever. He’s a musician no matter what; just right now he had become an unhappy one.
I totally understood where he was coming from as I had come to the same conclusion with my writing.
Taking a winter break has been what I’ve needed as I too had travelled to the point where my journey wasn’t a journey – it was a state. I had felt the pressure to write and create and be a writer because I thought I had made such a huge deal that it was too late to turn back.
Even though I felt I had outgrown what I was doing and that it wasn’t working for me, I felt afraid to leave it. That fear was the same fear that kept me being in the corporate world for so long. I was afraid to give up the security I had finally achieved despite the fact it didn’t work for me.
When I finally declared that it wasn’t working, I immediately felt better. I relaxed, I smiled, I played. I found other interests to enjoy, I spent real time with friends, I spent real time alone. I didn’t write for two months and instead of feeling guilty, I felt good.
There came a night when I finally felt the urge to write and when I did, I was surprised at how effortlessly it came out. I enjoyed letting my fingers click along the keyboard and it felt like playing again. I didn’t write about writing, I didn’t write about my dream and I didn’t write about travel. Instead, I began to write little stories of my past. I indulged myself with writing frivolously without concern of who would read it, who would buy it and who would say what about it.
When I started to write these stories, I noticed something – they were simple. Before my break I had become caught up in my thesaurus, in language and in grammar. I tried to apply all the new rules I had learned so instead of writing, I edited and my work felt contrived. I have an article published that I am currently too embarrassed about because it reads more like a flashy advert than an article I wrote. I forgot how much I enjoyed my simple voice because I had become caught up in trying to be more.
I took one of these simple stories and submitted it to a place that doesn’t pay. I didn’t want money for it; I just wanted to see if it was something people would respond to. Actually, what I really wanted was to see if people would still respond to me.
Turns out, they do.
The article was published and when others read it I received a lot of feedback of how it touched them. It made people recall their own experiences, made them think of other things but most importantly, it connected us. Something I hadn’t felt from my writing in a long time.
For the past couple of months, I’ve slowly been learning about my intentions as a writer. It’s not an overnight process and at times, it’s not even an easy one. Looking inward and asking myself why I am doing something can be frustrating when I don’t have the answers. I’m learning I don’t always have to have the answers if I enjoy it. It’s when I don’t enjoy something that asking the questions become crucial.
Nov. 10, 2002
There’s a problem in America; you’re supposed to have a career in which you specialise in something and if you don’t, you’re seen as confused.
I, however, don’t want to be just a writer because there are so many other things I want to do. This isn’t a new declaration, in fact, it was just last fall that I started talking about my passion for art. Somewhere, though, my other passions were pushed aside as I focused solely on my writing.
At first, it was what I needed to do. The insecurity I felt of changing from corporate girl to writer girl was so overwhelming that I needed an easy title to grasp hold of. I needed something easy to say when people challenged my job. It was easy to say I was a writer and even easier to defend it – it just made sense.
But my longing to do other things increased and I found that I started to call myself a “creative person.” However, this brought on more challenges from outsiders. They wanted to know what kind of creative person I was, what exactly did I do, and how much money did it make. Answering all those questions became tiresome so I resorted back to just saying, “I’m just a Writer.”
Although saying that made me feel as though I wasn’t being true to myself, in time I got over it and forgot that I was anything but a writer. Even though from time to time I would feel like there was more I wanted to do, I’d ignore it.
Ironically, the way I was feeling was when I was in my office job and I tried to ignore the feeling that I wanted to write. The feeling never went away, it just intensified until it overwhelmed me.
I didn’t want to be overwhelmed by my other creative longings so this fall when I began my break from writing, I began to indulge my other passions such as drawing, painting, sewing, singing, acting, dancing and writing stories I don’t normally write.
After awhile of doing this I understand why it felt so uncomfortable to call myself just a writer; I’m not just a writer and I do not specialise in one area of creativity. I dabble in lots of areas because if I don’t, I feel like something’s missing, because really, something is.
People want titles that are easy and understandable – it’s how in America we define ourselves. But what happens when we can’t be so easily defined? Are we to ignore parts of ourselves so that others can understand us better? I don’t think so. I’m tired of pretending to be something just so I look good. The fact is, I’m not just a writer, I’m a lot of things.
I’ve never been one for titles and even though “Writer” is less uncomfortable that “Corporate Executive” it’s still uncomfortable. So now when people ask me what I do I simply say, “I write and create a myriad of things. And I play.”
Elsewhere