Could I be more of a cliché? I’m a middle-aged housewife with an MA in English Lit. I love to read, love to write, and I have an active imagination. In a few years I hope to rejoin the working world in some way, but ideally want a job flexible enough so I can still attend all my kids’ events and be around when they get home from school (because we all know that’s when teens get into trouble). Oh…and I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop working on my novel. It’s even a Starbucks. Hell, it’s practically part of any college English program to declare your intentions to write the next great American novel (though I have no delusions there). I even have a blog. I’m a dime a dozen.
Looking around the coffee shop, there are at least three other people who could be doing the same thing. But the question is, dear reader, it that a bad thing? When I tell people I’m writing a novel, especially a cliché romance novel, I’m inclined to speak softly and look at the floor. Those who don’t know me well will think I’m flighty and assume reality will catch up with me soon. Those who do know me will know I’m a little flighty and assume I’ll move on to my next thing soon enough. After all, people like me don’t write books for a living. People like me raise the kids, volunteer at school, and find a job flexible enough that I can stay home when the kids get sick and earn a little extra money for the family.
I know I will probably never sell my book. I’ve never written anything before that’s been published (except a few letters to the editor). Sure, I’ve scribed a few papers to present at English conferences, and most Quad/Graphics employees have read some form of my writing – either online help or training tutorials for the in-house software. But that isn’t quite the same thing as someone reading your lovingly crafted manuscript and declaring it so good strangers will want to pay money for it. Couple this inexperience and self-consciousness with a raging fear of failure and quitting seems the logical choice.
After all, why bother when success is so unlikely? It’ll be somewhat embarrassing when I don’t succeed. So many people know what I’m doing, any failure can’t stay hidden. Also, writing takes time. I could be doing more yard work, volunteering at my kids’ school, making meals for those who have nothing, or being more diligent about couponing to same my family some money. When I write, I don’t make phone calls to the cable company to argue about the rising costs or follow up on why the new garage door isn’t installed. I neglect the ironing (ok, I’d do that anyway) and the dog’s nails don’t get trimmed as often as they should.
In short, my job as Family CEO suffers. If I stopped writing, I’d get more of that stuff done. I could read more for pleasure, discover music I’d enjoy, and grow more vegetables. But would the stories stop bubbling to the surface, letting characters and images free with every pop? Would the untold stories merely dissolve back into the muddled world of my imagination, or would the pressure of unreleased tales build up like the burgeoning caldera underneath Yellowstone (which terrifies me – but that’s an entirely different issue).
I’m not sure. I only know it feels right to write. I like playing with words, searching for new ways to express pain, joy, anticipation, and guilt. I like making up conversations, revealing secrets, and determining fates. So, dear reader, I’m going to embrace my chiche-ness. The next time I share my goals, I’ll look the person in the eye and proudly announce “I’m writing a romance novel, and I blog about it.”
Make sure to tell everyone you know.
July 12 Word Count = 36,531
