When Asked About Writing...

I'm often purposefully vague about my job because it's the only writing-related job I've ever had, and after years of burning out and burning bridges at other places I finally feel comfortable, valuable and as though I do my job pretty well, while using all of my talents.

I had someone ask me about my job, "Well don't you write?" For my job I don't actually write the newsletters, I just edit. So after that explanation I said, "But I write my blog." And then the question was asked, "But you like to write, you enjoy it?" I don't think I caught a breath before my retort of "Writing is the only thing I've ever liked to do." And it gave me a little kick in my heart when I effortlessly said that.

I come from a long line of highly creative under-achievers. We have amazing ideas and vision and seldom can we fully formulate results. For me? I'm realizing that the support that I would need to become what I would love, isn't quite there.

I don't need to be left alone in a cabin to formulate my thoughts or inspired by travel with thousands of dollars in inspirational materials and income. But I see these classes and workshops and contests and I just have no confidence or positive push to do them. If I won a weekend workshop in Maine to learn from a great writer of America, there's the ticket we can't afford, the child care we can't afford and then when I return inspired, what would come of it? Would I magically write an Oprah, Ellen and Reese Witherspoon recommended title?

I used to dream of interning and writing for Paste Magazine, but life happens and I was too afraid to be rejected with an application. Also when I mentioned living in Atlanta for any period of time the "No" blinker-board started flashing in red. Then I wanted to contribute for HelloGiggles. I often saw many little errors in their articles but they were fun, topical, trendy and conversational, so an easy read.

I'd love nothing more than to write some kind of book, possibly a memoir or autobiographical in nature, but I've always loved poetry and short stories as well. I used to live to attend poetry slams and be around creativity to thrive. Now I kind of do what I can and just try and make it through each day, with this blog as my 2019 challenge for myself.

There's a lot of uncomfortable, dark and rough things I'd love to put on paper but definitely feel like I don't have a safe, creative outlet to share it or to unload it all within. That makes me feel sad sometimes but, we continue.

I'm not sure when it all began, but for me, writing has just always been the place where I can put it all down without judgement or discussion. It was a safety. I always got A's in any writing or literature class and it was all I was ever good at, which I maintain today.

Lately I've begun to wonder what would happen if I just started taking the risk, entering contests, applying for weekend workshops, even taking local classes. I wonder what potential is stifled within my circumstance. But then I bring myself back down to earth and remember I'm just that working mom with a blog. I could be some kind of internet presence some day. I could be some Instagram personality I guess, but I'm not sure how that would all look.

I also don't want anything I write to negatively affect a reader. I did that once, I wrote, what was meant to be this funny, quippy blog, about leaving a truly horrible job and a boss that was just...we couldn't coexist, and my ex-employer came upon my blog recounting it, even though I had already left the position and they lost their minds and basically called me back in to go off on me.

I remember talking to them about so much of my writing and storytelling stemming from dark, cynical and sarcastic places but they were just offended. It took me years to realize that they weren't mad at the full situation or that they hurt me or mistreated me as a good and capable employee, they were mad I called them out on it.

For anyone who knew me well at the time, what I wrote was a hilarious diatribe and coming of age job story that was "Oh, so Alison." But for the people who read it, who I assumed would never know about it, never waste time reading it, and wouldn't even care, they seemed to instead just use it more and more in their argument of me being a despicable human and not, a girl trying to find her way after working endless shifts for them for a year and a half only to be called a "bitch" by her male boss when she did her job flawlessly, but didn't make friends with her younger co-workers whom she cleaned up after relentlessly and off the clock I might add. Run on sentence much? 

Eight years later and it still gets to me sometimes. I digress. What I learned the hard way was, no matter how clever the rhetoric, it had consequences to unleash that into the universe beyond "gossip." Writing can cause collateral damage and I've yet to find a safe way to balance my true feelings and my written words. I would never intend to write in my anger and have someone read it and think I actually wish them any ill will. So where is my outlet then? What is the right way to write?

This is my struggle. Daily, I post about parenting, and silly things like Cookie Chairs and Hand Me Downs, but sometimes I want to talk about living with addiction and alcoholic family members and what that has done to me. Sometimes I want to talk about feeling lost or even feeling found. Sometimes I want to talk about the wounds of my childhood and other days I want to complain about first world problems and mom-drama. 

The balance is rough for me, I won't lie, but perhaps it is for all highly-creative underachievers. For now, I keep myself within certain boundaries but hope to one day write it all and offend with the best of them. (This is an example of that cynical sarcasm that gets me in trouble).

Regardless, when asked about writing what you need to know about me is this: Writing is my coffee. It makes me feel awake, alive, capable, and able to take on more than I think I can without it. And there you have it!