Fighting for my writing life

The very friendly and slightly mysterious red typewriter that greets visitors as they step off the antique elevator into Grub Streets office space.

Our motto here is “live to write – write to live.”

Today, I feel like I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for my right to write.

It’s not that anyone is actually trying to stop me from pursuing my dream. It’s just that life has a habit of getting in the way. It’s not exactly malignant or even unkind, just inconvenient and often – like today – insanely frustrating.

Though the fourth was a holiday for most folks in the states today, I worked. It was my choice. I have several large-ish copywriting deadlines looming and, since my daughter was spending the day with her dad, I figured I’d take advantage of the uninterrupted quiet and try to hammer out as much as I could. I began work at 9AM and didn’t stop (except to put the trash out, take a shower, and reheat some leftover pasta for dinner) until I hit the wall at 11PM. Despite a long day of butt-in-seat effort, I didn’t manage to get as much done as I’d hoped. *sigh*

That was when I started to feel like my resolve to write was being seriously (and cruelly) tested.

In case you missed it, I signed up for a six-week fiction writing class (the first I’ve taken in years). Last Thursday was the first class. My predicament this evening, as I sat cranky and cursing over my keyboard, is that I’m suddenly not sure there are enough working hours available to meet next week’s deadline. My knee-jerk solution was to consider skipping tomorrow’s class in order to free up time for my client project. Before the thought was even fully formed in my conscious mind, I was railing against it.

“No!” I thought with a silent vehemence that made the sentiment almost audible, “I won’t!” I felt raw and pointy emotions rising from my heart to my throat. I wanted to stamp my feet and pout. I wanted to shout that it isn’t fair. I wanted to crumple across my desk and cry.

Maybe it’s the recent full moon. Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe I’m just over-tired from staying up to watch fireworks Tuesday night. Whatever the reason, I suddenly felt the weight and guilt of years (and years) of failing to follow through settling around me the way shovelfuls of dirt settle around a coffin. Smothering. Inescapable. Final.

Not a happy place.

It’s four minutes ’til midnight as I write this. Tomorrow I will go to class. Even though having that day back would make the next week of workdays much easier. Even though taking this class is costing me money while staying home to work would make me money. Even though my foul mood does not leave me in the best mindset for creative endeavors. Even though I feel a little guilty and self-indulgent for prioritizing my wants over my work obligations. Despite all this, I’m not giving up. I’m not caving in. I’m not bailing out. I am going to stick to my guns, keep my promise to myself, and show up to be a writer.

At the end of last week’s class, our instructor (the lovely Sophie Powell) asked each of us to state our writing intentions for the weeks ahead. As she went around the room, my classmates made various commitments – a half hour of writing each day, four hours of writing each day, a finished chapter, a completed outline, and so on. When it was my turn, I said, “I’m going to be completely honest and painfully realistic and say that the best I can commit to is showing up here each week.” In comparison to the intentions of my classmates, my promise sounded small and even a little lazy; but – in the context of my life – I knew it was a Big Deal.

I have a few other responsibilities for class – bringing a “perfect line” from a favorite book each week, unearthing and editing a piece I worked on years ago so I can bring it in to be workshopped by the class, and writing a couple pages of something new to share towards the end of our six weeks – but if  all I manage to pull off is perfect attendance, that’s going to be good enough for me … gold-star worthy, in fact.

Well, how about that? I’m feeling a little better. Hopefully, by the time you read this, it will be tomorrow morning and I’ll be refreshed and rested after a half-decent night’s sleep … ready to tackle my commute into the city so I can enjoy three hours of dedication to my dream and my craft. My wish for you today is that you are able to find some time and a perfect way to give your writing dream some love and attention. There is no such thing as tomorrow. Tomorrow is just a figment of your imagination. Today is all you have, so you have to use it wisely.

What will you write today?

Jamie Lee Wallace is a writer who also happens to be a marketer. She helps her Suddenly Marketing clients discover their voice, connect with their audience, and find their marketing groove. She is also a mom, a prolific blogger, and a student of voice and trapeze (not at the same time). Introduce yourself on facebook or twitter. She doesn’t bite … usually.

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Writer Must Do: Celebrate Small Successes

Writers may no longer be routinely living in cramped and spidery garrets, or donning Bob Cratchit-style glove/scarf ensembles while laboring over a manuscript, BUT they are still pretty hard on themselves.

On last Friday’s “fun” post, Laura commented and quoted ee cummings:

“my mind is a big hunk of irrevocable nothing…nevertheless; i feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming something a little different in fact myself…”

She said she keeps this quote above her desk, “to remind myself to keep progress in perspective … Sometimes we expect too much, too soon, and forget to enjoy the value of small accomplishments.”

Laura is dead-on right.

In my perfect world, I am a well-respected and successful writer of literary young adult fantasy. I am miles away from that goal. My journey remains long not because I lack talent, or because I don’t have any ideas, or even because I don’t know where to start. My journey remains long because, at this particular juncture in my life, I have some responsibilities that are more pressing than my dream of becoming the next J.K. Rowling.

And I’m okay with that … most of the time.

But, sometimes I get frustrated about being unable to write as much as I’d like (or, at all). Sometimes I get really down on myself for failing my dream. I feel guilty about all the work I’m not doing. I tell myself I’m not a “real” writer. I feel like a fraud. In short, I beat the crap out of myself. I may as well be the monkey-mind critic, blown up to King Kong proportions, delivering a non-stop diatribe on the subject of why I suck and should give up this whole writing thing and take up knitting or stamp collecting.

And then I come to my rescue.

My kick-ass self swoops in to defend my writing dreams, putting herself between me and my giant ape attacker. Wearing a ninja princess get-up, her hands on her hips, a gleam in her eye, she reminds my oversized assailant that I have, in fact, made some pretty big strides in my writing. In three short years, I’ve gone from being a project manager who occasionally dabbles in writing to a full-time writer who makes her living blogging, writing columns and articles for print, and writing for clients who hire me to work on everything from brand identity to websites to E-books, and beyond.

The cranky ape begins to shrink a little.

Without giving chimp-boy a chance to rebut, my kick-ass self lists off all the steps I’ve taken to get more serious about my fiction writing: joining my first critique group, making it a point to meet (and talk with) fiction writers, studying the craft, experimenting with my writing style, starting character studies, and – hey! – becoming a founding member of this very blog.

King Kong is suddenly looking a little sheepish.

The point of all this is that constantly measuring yourself against the end-all, be-all (as in – being the next J.K Rowling) is a deeply unkind way to treat yourself. It’s bad enough to constantly compare yourself to your peers (Why didn’t I get as many comments? How come she got the feature assignment? Why can’t I land the kinds of clients she does?), but trying to inhabit the life of a fully-formed writer before you’ve even truly begun … well, that’s not just unkind, it’s insane.

Along the way to becoming the writer you aspire to be, take time to celebrate the writer you are. Did you get invited to guest blog somewhere? Kudos to you! Did you get a piece in the local paper? Hearty congrats! Did you finally finish that short story you’ve been working on for the past decade? Many happy returns. Did you get brave and join a writing group? Good for you! Each positive action we take to nurture our creative writer selves is cause for celebration. In a world as busy and demanding as this one, any success we have in carving out even the tiniest foothold for our craft is an enormous testament to our passion for writing.

So, go forth and throw yourself a party. Let your kick-ass self knock that monkey-mind critic down to size. Stop beating yourself up for what you’re not doing, and start patting yourself on the back for what you are doing. There’s no such thing as an overnight success – each step on the journey counts, so make sure you count each step for the gift that it is.

Do you celebrate your small successes? If you do – how? If you don’t – why not?

PS – I don’t think there’s anything wrong with knitting or stamp collecting. I’m sure there are many lovely and wildly talented knitters and philatelists out there. It’s just that, for me, trading writing for one of those pastimes would be a sell-out. Big time.
Jamie Lee Wallace is a writer who, among other things, works as a marketing strategist and copywriter. She helps creative entrepreneurs (artists, writers, idea people, and creative consultants) discover their “natural” marketing groove so they can build their business with passion, story, and connection. She also blogs. A lot. She is a mom, a singer, and a dreamer who believes in small kindnesses, daily chocolate, and happy endings. Look her up on facebook or follow her on twitter. She doesn’t bite … usually.

Image Credit: From King Kong, version 2005

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