cheaper than therapy

There's no use denying it: I was nervous. I checked in at the registration desk, slapped a name tag on and went into the bathroom, to practice some deep breathing. To knock some sense into myself. I kept thinking about the last writing seminar I took, before this blog, when Lexi was in diapers. The 'instructor' held up abstract pictures of car bumpers, headlights, and we were to churn out something worth reading aloud under florescent lights. I spent the 20 allotted minutes, looking out the window, imagining the real teacher was stranded on the side of the road, leaving us with this bozo. But this line of thought was frowned on, so I wrote my piece, stumbled through it and tossed the community college catalogue when I got home.

I had given up on writing, put it aside for years and here I found myself, trying again.

I closed my eyes, feigned calm. I opened them to a rape hot line poster on the back of the stall door. It didn't help.

I made my way to the auditorium, and within minutes I was confronted with the question most bloggers struggle with: So, are you a writer?

*****

I find mentioning my blog creates furrowed brows, the glazed over glance once reserved for people who play D&D in basements or stand in line with their mothers to pal around with Simon Cowell. I know, to some, it breeds contempt and ridicule, yet, this is what I write.

I think I could take it further, stir up some good gossip 'round here if I talked about how therapeutic blogging has been for me, how reading other women's sites fills a hole I've been shoveling to cover since I became a Mom. I know how that sounds, me huddled with my laptop, 'hanging out' with my imaginary friends. Yet it feels right, and I am thankful every time I open my google reader and see you, lit up to greet me.


*****
Now that my youngest is in first grade, conversation turns towards work, what might I like to do now. I always had Big Plans, to return to some management position. I loved working, used to work like a madwoman. Maybe I was.


I want to shrug; say I don't know. But lately I've been letting the truth drip from my lips: I want to write fiction, I want to see a novel through.
I now how it sounds, but anymore, I just don't care.
*****

Comments

Daisy said…
I, for one, LOVE your blog and I do think it's cheaper than therapy. You have an audience with me!

I couldn't agree with you more about your comments about "hanging out" with your imaginary friends and bloggers are the D&D gamers of yesteryear. hehehe how funny.

Who'da thunk this would be a great outlet to fill a void?
Spagirl said…
You write that novel. I'll be the first in line to buy it! (But I'd better get an autographed copy!)
OhTheJoys said…
You. Go.

Seriously.

Write it.
You are a writer. I'm relatively new here, and yet I already know that. This post resonated with me in so many ways. Heck, I could have written it. You can't shake the fear, not at first. But you can put it aside long enough to start.

I'm on chapter twelve. I am amazed. And I am happy.
Mrs. G. said…
I'm sure you've probably read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamotte--it's my favorite. I read it over and over again.

Go for it! And keep us posted...no pun intended.
sounds good to me-I'd read a book you wrote
Anonymous said…
Um, so exactly what are you saying about D & D?

(I married that guy from the basement, you know...Maybe THAT'S what I can I write about!)

Well said, but if it helps you feel more prepared to create (great art comes from misery, you know), I'll shout insults at you from now on.
katydidnot said…
imaginary friends?? i think not!

if you write it, i will buy it.
Anonymous said…
Can you throw in some good fight scenes and some sex ;)

Do what makes you happy. I'll read it.

and I loved D&D...

-Stu
Cara said…
You can definitely write and you should.
I totally agree that blogging is theraputic. I am not a writer but it feels good to put my thought out there and to read that others have the same.
I love your blog and would read your books!
Go for it!
Karen Jensen said…
Just put San Antonio on your book signing tour, would you?

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