Except it wasn't. Yes, the job was great but it wasn't writing. Not only that but it had a negative effect on my writing. On my list (my long, long list) of things to do at the end of a work day, my writing continually was pushed to the bottom. I tried but I never seemed to have the time or energy. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that maybe that aspect of my life was over. I had tried to be a writer. I hadn't been able to make a living as a writer. Now I was something else. I believed no one had even noticed that I had stopped writing. Seven words challenged that belief.
"I liked when you were a writer."
My son had noticed. That offhand comment made in passing as he was setting the table one evening forced me stare the facts in the face. I wasn't a writer any longer. Writers write. It also jump started the writer in me. I began writing again. Maybe not as a living, but enough that I can feel that joy again. I've accepted a writing assignment at my "real job" and am working on a curious idea that even if it isn't published makes me happy. And I can say to my son, "I still am a writer."
Did you ever take a break from writing (voluntary or not)? What made you "get back in the saddle" again?
Jodi M. Webb is writer living in Pennsylvania who also is a WOW blog tour manager. You can find her at Building Bookshelves. Today Schuylkill Heroes, a feature about military personnel that she's writing for The Republican-Herald, begins. She's also found inspiration for a new WIP at her non-writing job.
4 comments:
Jodi: thank you so much for your blog today. I love your articles on WOW so thank you for taking time to share your thoughts!
I actually read the WOW blog religiously but it's on my phone, so I never make comments because I hate typing on my little screen. But today, I was inspired to leave my "two-cents."
I have been "working on a novel" since graduating from high school (I'm now 46). And I tell everyone and anyone who will listen that I am writing a novel. Even when I was also a single mom, a graduate student, a legal secretary, a mental health therapist, a volunteer, a church teacher, etc. etc.
About five years ago, I was at Costco and ran into a woman who was a client of an attorney I had worked for about 15 years prior. The first thing out of her mouth after "hello," was, "Did you ever finish that book you were working on?"
I hemmed and hawed and stammered, answered her question, and did my darnedest to hustle her right out of the sock aisle. Because her comment brought me up short! I hadn't worked on my novel for years, and her simple question made me realize that even though the idea of my novel was still in the back of my mind, I had allowed my "real life" to interfere with that dream. "Oh, I'll get to that when I'm not so busy." "Yeah, I'd love to write that novel, but for now I need to work." And so forth. Excuses, excuses, and more excuses.
With that woman's question and the realization that it had been 15 YEARS since I'd first told her I was writing a novel, I realized that pretty soon, my "real life" would be over, and I would be dead, and that novel would never be anything more than a pipe dream in my head.
So, I put myself back in the saddle and have been working on that novel ever since (while also blending a new family, starting a new career, moving, making new friends, launching children out the door, etc.). The novel has gone through several incarnations, but I am happy to report that the final draft will be submitted to a publisher by the end of this year!
I have come to realize that my "real life" includes being a writer, and until I was willing to commit to it, it would never be anything more than a hobby. Which might be fine for some people, but it was not okay for me.
Jodi & Tacy, I can totally relate. I recently had a reunion with girlfriends I hadn't seen in 15-20 years and "Did you ever finish that novel you were working on?" was one of the questions they all asked. I hadn't touched it in years and pretty much gave up on the idea of writing a novel. Then one of my girlfriends brought out a HUGE cardboard box filled with my writing--letters, notes, stories, drawings that I'd given her since 4th grade--and I realized, I've always been a writer. In that box were stories I wrote for my friends who had crushes on boys and I'd write a 20-page story of their imaginary romance. There were comics I'd drawn and collages I created to illustrate my writing. It brought me to tears. I couldn't believe she saved all that stuff. It also did one thing: motivated me to start writing and drawing again. The next time I see them--and I imagine it will be sooner rather than later since we are now group texting all the time--I will have something I'm proud of to show them. It's weird when you haven't seen friends in a while...they look at you differently than other people, they believe in you probably more than you believe in yourself, and they remind you of who you really are.
I am trying desperately to get back in the saddle. I am so thankful for WOW! keeping me current--able to teach and to blog--while I saddle up my horse. :)
I could so relate to this post. I have loved writing all my life and tried to get more serious in the early 2000s taking loads of courses, going to retreats. I even got a few short stories published and a children's Christmas play.
Lately I have been letting other things get in the way of that writing dream. I've grown cynical and complacent. Writing is hard work and often I let fear and the inner critic interfere.
My mother died last November at 83. I'm 56. I do find myself still buying books and reading loads of articles on writing. But actually doing the writing is what I need to be doing more. I go at it with spurts of enthusiasm followed by periods of drought where I don't write much of anything. It's not like I have endless time left. One day it will run out as it did for my mom who probably still wanted to do more creative projects since she was a painter and loved art.
The time is now! Thanks for the reminder to get my butt in gear and write.
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