On coming out…
…as a writer!
Writing a blog is a little like coming out. Suddenly everyone knows your business. They know what you get up to in the evenings. You walk past people and don’t know yet if they “know”.
Writing a blog like this feels like running down the street with no clothes on. Like the recurring nightmare I have of turning up to school still in my pajamas.
I feel a little vulnerable. I had done well till now at hiding behind lesser-read alternative publications, academic writing, or more mainstream topics in mainstream magazines and papers. But then I decided to write what I really want to write for a while. To take a break from chasing new editors with new pitches. I decided to write the stuff that usually ends up parked on my computer, the spiritual, wacky, hippy, crunchy munchy, women’s group-y stuff that I love to write, but no one wants to publish, unless you have a book to your name.
Do you “get” me, do you agree with what you read, do you roll your eyes, do you care? Would you buy a book if I wrote it? Now there’s a question! I want to write books (obviously books with an editor and a proof reader or two on hand!) but current life is mama to three little kiddies whom I try to cherish, enjoy and appreciate, rather than wishing away my time wanting to be writing! I would like another column too (just in case anyone’s offering), a weekly one, with good money…any offers?! I would like to fully earn my living doing what I love, no compromises… then comes the little voice “wouldn’t everyone?”, and then all his friends join in: “you couldn’t write a book”, “no one would publish it”, “how many hundreds of thousands of bloggers are out there too who are more interesting, original, talented, well-informed, more mainstream, more alternative…” Hello voices! Bet you have some of those too. Those little guys who start shouting when you want to live a dream.
So this blog feels good, scary-good, good-good, exhilarating. This is my bungey jumping. This is my therapy. This is where it’s at for now. My online calling card. My practice jotter. My science lab. My artist’s studio.
Where will it lead…who knows? I have my hopes, my dreams.