My husband whispers snarky comments to me all the time. This is our love language. Sometimes I disguise my guffaw with a lighthearted, church-appropriate chuckle (because Lord have mercy but that man is even more hilarious in the presence of God and these witnesses) and sometimes I don’t. Either way, it’s just between us. Nothing to share with the class. That is how I’ve been feeling about this blog. I have nothing to share! The truth is, I have lots to share about my writing journey, but nothing, you know. Literary. Lofty. Legit.
Clearly, I had to rethink the purpose of my blog. The reason I have a blog is so that when I submit stuff to agents or meet a future colleague and they google me, it’s not a vast tundra of files not found. I don’t like teaching, but I like to encourage. I don’t like writing meta on books and media, but I like linking to those who do. I love pinning velvet chairs on my Pinterest page, and that’s some important stuff right there. So, I will stop writing as though I know what I’m talking about, which is what I thought you should do if you got yerself one of them thar blogs, and will write from a place of discovery and ambition.
Ambition! Remember in “Little Town On The Prairie” (or was it the next one, where she gets that horrible internship with the woman who wields butcher knives instead of post-partum depression meds…) Laura Ingalls had to write a last-minute essay on ambition and she copied the dictionary definition, scattered a couple of observations across the top, and got an A? I’m like that. I don’t really know what ambition is. I would have to look it up, too. But I am writing every day to improve my craft and eventually be a published writer. That’s the goal of my heart.
Unfortunately, the road to publication is like infertility. Have I said this yet? Oh well, I’ll say it again. We told everyone we were going to start a family and everyone was like, woo hoo! You will make good parents! And then it DID NOT HAPPEN. Eventually, the “hey, are you pregnant/no, I am just fat” exchanges dwindled and died. Happy ending: it did happen! Woo hoo! We are good parents! But we floated in a bizarre sense of timelessness, waiting for that dream to come true. It’s the same with this Writing Thing: This is my vocation and I am working hard. It could happen next year, it could happen in ten years. I have no idea. I used to feel weird being so passionate about something that is garnering no goal-oriented results, but now I’m just enjoying being obedient to the call.
My goal for the blog is to share things that might help other writers, offer hope to those on the journey, and amuse readers. I will occasionally be funny. (I will occasionally think I am funny, realize I was only pretentious, and delete stuff.) I hope you like my new approach! This way, when IT HAPPENS and people flock to my blog like pigeons on spilled cheerios, I won’t have to suddenly become savvy and serene. I’ll already be there, carrying a watermelon.
p.s. today’s confident and positive blog post is brought to you by the feeling you get after you read Brene Brown’s “Daring Greatly.”