Month: March 2022

“Shifting gears from this horrific accident to a new doughnut shop opening today.” Newscasters love to use this phrase to jump stories. It makes me feel like I’m on a rotating stage and I’m forced to look away as I spin toward the next scene.

This blog is also shifting gears and focusing more on my journey (barf, this isn’t the Bachelor), on my attempt (definitely more accurate) to write a book. My brain is consumed with this idea that I could write something people might actually want to read. I may be overconfident since the biggest day on this blog has been 16 views but hey, I’m not giving up just yet.

I never thought that writing a book would be easy but I underestimated the amount of time I would spend just staring at my computer or out the window. I can’t focus unless everything aligns. I can’t be distracted by human noise in my house, a needy cat, or a dryer with a bad roller thingy that sounds like a heavy metal band made up entirely of toddlers. I can’t be hungry or unshowered or cold. Even when things do align and I’m clean and cozy in my chair with a blanket, a snack, and the sun is shining while my cat sleeps on the corner of the bed behind me, I can still stare at the screen and let all my negative self-talk spill out before me. Instead of me typing, I imagine my keyboard taking over and spelling out, i-m-p-o-s-t-e-r. I’m not a writer, right? Write.

Today I was sneaking in a little nap and I had a dream about a really tall house with several floors and the top floor was in Paris but there was a giant hole in the actual floor where you could look down and see someplace that I assume was in the U.S. And the main character in this weird multi level home was named Esther and her name kept being played over and over in several different sentences that described her and what she was doing, none of which I could remember when I woke up. The main character in my book is Phoebe but I think that’s going to change. Hello Esther.

Switching gears……

Is it pathetic that the only book I’ve read twice is Emily Henry’s, The People We Meet on Vacation? Writers are usually readers and I am definitely a reader but most well read people can recite passages from the classics and name the authors of those classics. I’ve never had time for any of that. (The closest I’ve come is Donna Tartt’s, The Goldfinch, which was wonderful but took me a REALLY long time to finish.) No, I prefer to get lost in the life of a millennial and love it so much that I download the audio book so I can relive every sweet, funny, sexy moment of it. I swear to God, if I could relive my 20’s, I would be Poppy Wright. Actually, part of me thinks I am Poppy Wright. I am a 26 year-old trapped in the body of a 45 year-old. I’m immature and a big baby sometimes. I’m also put together and independent other times. Mostly, I’m a dreamer. I’m always thinking about what comes next, never really content to stay put too long. I need something on the horizon to work towards. I get bored easily and I’m in love with my best friend. Lucky for me, he happens to be my husband. Anyway, I really love this book and I love Poppy. She speaks to me.

Happy Friday friends. Read a good book this weekend or do something fun and come back and tell me all about it. I’ll be here. Staring at my screen. Occasionally typing.

Sometimes I think I hear yodeling. It’s like that game from the Price is Right where you guess the cost of something and the little mountain climber guy in lederhosen climbs up for every dollar you’re off and the whole object of the game is to not have him climb so far that he falls to his death at the top. That’s me. I really don’t want to fall off this mountain. So, where am I going with this analogy?

I think I know.

Have you ever been really sure about your ability to do something even though you are struggling to do it? Like each day you grind one more layer off your molars with the effort that you are so painfully yielding? Yet you come back for more day after day because you expect it to be better? Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Or, does it mean you’re determined and goal oriented? Or maybe it just means that dentures are in your future.

I wish I knew.

I have been wanting to write a book for a while but I wasn’t sure what this book would look like. A memoir? A psychological thriller? Something funny? Something heartfelt? What I’ve decided is… (e) all of the above. Can it be done?

I wish I knew.

I watched a master class by David Sedaris and I knew I didn’t have such extraordinary experiences to draw upon nor could I be so brutally honest but God, I love his stuff. I am currently watching Judy Blume’s master class and I already know that I’m not as thoughtful or observant as she. I have a terrible memory so drawing from personal experiences is like fishing through a package of swiss cheese. Every single slice will have a hole in it. So, what kind of writer am I?

I wish I knew.

I have over 10,000 words for a story that hasn’t gone anywhere yet and I have 10,000 paths vying for my attention. Every day I change my mind about a character, a scene and even who’s telling the story. Should it be in 3rd person or 1st?

I wish I knew.

I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter how awful this first draft is because I’m going to edit it and make it extraordinary. I’ll dig deeper, I’ll immerse myself into each character and breathe their air and trim their nails. I’ll settle into their town and learn every shortcut to the market and every restaurant that serves fried cheese curds. I’ll find the best skim latte and the best spot to watch the sunset. It’s going to be good. Really good. I imagine myself becoming a famous author. One who wears fancy shoes and gets professional blow outs. I honestly believe that I can do it but I have absolutely no proof besides this skeleton of a story. No meat. No personality.

But it’s gonna happen. It has to. I promised myself and I promised my husband I would buy him a vacation home with my first big paycheck. When?

I wish I knew.

At the rate I’m going, I may be buying him elder care. But that’s okay too as long as I don’t fall to my death. Yodel-Lay-Hee-Hoo!

Trying to be a writer and a blogger is not easy. I keep ricocheting off each side. One minute I’m focusing on my blog and brainstorming for new ideas. Then I’m pulling up my work in progress and trying to figure out the direction of my plot. I feel guilty if I spend too much time on my blog and I feel anxious about trying to write a novel. After pinging back and forth several times, I usually just settle into the chaos of my brain where the message is, you suck at both.

And then I laugh.

And then I do more laundry and make dinner—all while thinking about my blog and my book. It’s madness.

If only I had some writer/blogger friends to offer some advice…..

Anyone?

• Jumped from a plane.
• Held our 3 year old guinea pig.
• Traveled to Europe or anywhere outside North America.
• Eaten an anchovy.
• Let anyone I know read my work.

What do all these things have in common? Fear.

I hate heights and the thought of purposely throwing myself out into the sky, makes me sweaty and woozy.

I think our guinea pig is adorable but I’m afraid he’ll poop and/or pee on me if I hold him.

I’m terrified to fly over the entire width of the Atlantic.

I’m pretty sure I would barf if I put that little fish in my mouth and vomiting is another one of my fears.

I’m so afraid that someone will tell me I’m barking up the wrong tree with this whole “writing as a career” thing.

There are a million other things I’m afraid of like tsunamis and space travel. Drowning and choking to death. Wool sweaters.

But the fear of someone stomping out this tiny little flame beneath me, is the scariest of all. It took me a long time to clear out a spot that was all mine. A place where I could really be me. I don’t have to pretend to like what everyone else likes. I don’t have to act or look a certain way.

I’m clumsy and awkward in person. I’m easily over stimulated and usually itchy with irritation. Sitting here in my sunny little spot, spewing my swirling thoughts across the keyboard, is the closest I’ve come to living my best life. And I really hate that phrase but I can’t think of any other way to say it.

So, never have I ever been so honest. Behind a screen. Slightly anonymous. Still nervous and scared but…..it’s something.

Best wishes to everyone out there taking a leap. If it’s out of a plane, Godspeed my friend.

Go live your freaking dream!