EXACIZE Those Chompas, Again

Hey, imaginary friend who wants to write, you should do it. What are you going to do, spend the rest of your life NOT writing? Become one of those bitter little old ladies who live to dash others' hopes and dreams because you never really pursued your own? You say you're not sure you have the chops--well, you owe it to yourself to find out if you have the chops or not. And anyway, if it turns out that you're not as great as you had hoped, that doesn't mean that you can't still work to improve. Maybe this is something that you have to work harder at that anything else you've done if you want to make it a reality, you know? Maybe you give it a shot and find out you need some brushing-up. Maybe you take a few classes at a community college, or through a center for adult education. But improving just increases your chances of success, right?

Don't fret about not "being there" for your family. In the first place, you shouldn't be so damn irreplaceable that your occasional absence sends them into fits of confusion. That's just unhealthy and a sign that you should have been doing this all along. It might be a struggle at first, honestly. But they'll learn how to function without you. That doesn't mean that you aren't integral or that they don't love you--it means you are doing your JOB of teaching your kids (and husband, who is really a sort of kid as well) to be independent of you. In the second place, you owe it to your family to be happy, and fulfilled, and a bon vivant. Will writing help you to get there? Or would you be better off waiting tables for some easy cash? Yeah, that's what I thought. Be fulfilled, be more interesting, have something else to talk to your husband about over dinner. And so what if "dinner" is sometimes KFC takeout or hot dog fajitas? It's worth it in the end. You can't allow yourself to become solely responsible for your family, anyway.

You say you worry that you don't have anything to say. I totally understand that worry--it's a very normal and human worry. That's the worry of someone as her hand is hovering next to the door knocker, afraid to attend the cocktail party. Hey, you might NOT have enough to say, at least at first. But you have SOMETHING to say. Say it, at least for practice. Try and find your voice and maybe you'll find you have one, after all. And don't be so shy--chances are that what's important to you is also important to other people, too. Every single thing you write doesn't have to be worthy of the New Yorker--let's just start out with being relevant to SOMEONE, anyone. There are plenty of writers who never see their bylines in the Atlantic or the New Yorker who are still very successful, very relevant. Just because you're not one of the big dogs doesn't mean you can't still bark.

I know you don't know where to start, and that the first steps seem really intimidating. That's because they are. It's ok to feel intimidated. Hey, give yourself a day. Feel intimidated. Curl up in the fetal position if that's what you want. Then, get over it. Get up and get cracking. People who spend their days in the fetal position rarely become rousing successes...unless of course they are actual fetuses. Maybe start by taking a workshop, or a class. Does that help you feel inspired? If that feels like too much, hit your local library and you're sure to find a ton of books on writing to help you get started. But the most important thing is that you GET STARTED. You can do it. I believe in you.

Now, write to yourself.

Hi, self. So, self, you want to be a writer. You are even starting to let on to a select group of people that maybe, just maybe, you want to be a writer. You've been writing for half of forever, and you've had some admirers along the way. But guess what? You can't pay the bills on "you have such wit!". You aren't going to be remembered for "you should write professionally". If you want those things, you have to work for them. And probably, work hard for them.

You're so lazy with your dreams, self. You gaze indolently at them from a safe distance, promising you'll get to them later. But now you're 33, and they're not any closer. Your old approach clearly isn't doing the trick. It's time to step things up--it's time to be the person you know you can be, but don't make the effort to be.

Signing up for the workshop was a first step. But now you need more steps--you need to sign up for more IN PERSON local workshops. You need to call more mags and get samples, spend more of your valuable time researching and getting ready for querying. You can do it, you know you can.

You have to stop treating this 'ramp-up' as an annoying barrier between you and success. Maybe it is, but you must take it seriously and scale it fully if you want to BE successful. Everyone would love to breeze past the hardest part, you know?

You ARE worthy. You DO have something to say. When you start to talk, people listen. But you have to have the chutzpah to start speaking up in the first place.

Now, let's talk goals. You and I both know that if you had your druthers, you'd be pounding out a piece for Cookie or WonderTime or Family Circle right now. And it would sort of rock, obviously. And you'd stack up those clips and bylines and parlay them into that fantastic nonfiction book deal--that Priced Out project, and maybe many others besides. And let's not even pretend that you don't hope that once the writing bug bites you and bites you good again, that you'll be cranking out lovely fictional short stories and even novels. And screenplays? Well, why the heck not? You do it all, don't you, Amanda? You're the brilliant writer with the acerbic tongue and deliciously literary nonfiction, the mom people think of when they think of someone who found a way to fit her career in with her homelife. You're the one people can't wait to mention to their friends that they know, and say that they remember when she was just starting out as a writer and didn't know what to do or how to do it. Your success feeds them all, you know.