Ok, all y’all, now comes my confession regarding the REAL reason for me starting a blog.
When I was about four years old I told my mom I wanted to write books when I grew up. Her very prosaic 1950’s response was “better you should learn to type.”
Well, I did learn to type, and to organize things, and to get along with people, and, as a result I had a very successful career where I did all of those things on a daily basis. What I didn’t do was write.
I thought about writing, I took classes on writing, I took a stab at writing; but, there were always more important things to be done with my time and energy. I raised kids, kept house/home, cooked, sewed, worked, got promotions, managed projects, everything but write.
I always thought that when I had some time (the kids were grown, I was retired, etc.) I would get around to writing. Finally, that time is here, and there are huge obstacles to writing something; am I good enough, will anybody want to read what I write, should I be doing something else with my time (cleaning house, volunteering, going to school)? How much time do I have? Who starts a career at 70 years old?
I bet a lot of you, especially the women, but some of the men, as well, have had a similar experience. I want to be a doctor when I grow up. Don’t you mean a nurse? I want to be an actress, or singer, or musician. Maybe you can do that on the side.
I don’t think our parents wanted to discourage us, but they wanted to be practical and reasonable and didn’t want us to be disappointed. I get that. I hope I didn’t do that with my kids, but I probably did, in the interest of “helping” them.
Now I sit down in front of my computer and I forge ahead with that “shitty first draft” that Hallie Ephron has assured me is the first step to getting a book written. The critics, including the inner-critic who is most critical of all, chime in about why this a futile endeavor; you’re too old, you don’t know what you are doing, there are thousands of more talented people out there, nobody will want to read your story.
Hell, I don’t know. I only know I need to write it before I am gone. Maybe nobody will read it (maybe not even my children to whom I will give free signed copies).
And yet, I look around and I see hundreds of stories written that are not great literature, but still get published and entertain people.
How many of you are still wishing you had followed a dream and think it is too late? It may (or may not) be too late to become the “world’s best” at your dream, but it is not too late to pursue your love for whatever inspires you.
I am promising you, and myself, today to keep writing and to give you updates on how it is going, whether you want them or not. I am so determined that I have purchased my personal lexammack.com domain name. At some point, and with the help of my brother, I will set up a writer page so the rest of you can avoid my updates here and go there instead. For now, you will have to bear with me.
UPDATE: I am at a little over 25,000 words on my novel right now (about a third of the way through the first draft).
