I Have a Secret to Tell

This one is a self discovery post. I will lay it all out on the line and you the reader can either agree or disagree like always. Yes, it is self indulgent; but then again it is my blog. I’m wandering around Barnes & Noble (because where else would I be today) and for fifteen minutes all I did was read book cover titles. I originally thought this was an attempt to come up with a good title (Who am I kidding; at this point I’d settle for a decent title.) for the very first novel I tried to write. Well if you don’t count Koala Wood written in a notebook with pen and pencil at the age of 12 and never completed (because it is horrendous, but I still have that notebook – you know, for posterity or some such grand idea). In actuality, walking around a bookstore and looking at titles is just a way for my mind to wander to and fro and think what it will.

What it thought was how much this last year has affected me as a person. I know loosing my copywriter job was not personal – heck, I still have lunch on a regular basis with a lot of people from my old job. Just like I still see and talk to the 415 crew 10 years after the Disney Store closed (seriously!). I’ve always been fairly apt at separating my work life with my me life (more than my personal life, my me life is who I am and who I strive to be). But what I did not realize last April when I shed a stress-free sigh of relief and a what-am-I-going-to-do-now tear was how much leaving the corporate world would change my me life. I can honestly say I’m a very different person now with different priorities.

If you go back and read my very first blog post, you will realize that my subconscious was aware of this much more quickly then the rest of me, but today while reading book titles off a shelf I actually lost my breath when the force of that realization hit home. Alas, it was followed quickly by a self-flagellating notion of what am I waiting for?

See here’s the thing. I know who I am, I know what I want to accomplish and yet I still keep dragging my feet. I’m standing on the brink staring over the cliff and I absolutely refuse to jump. Over the past year I’ve often times described myself as lazy. I’ve looked for work and applied for jobs, but I’m mostly just happy working my measly part-time job 20 or so hours a week and spending the most of the time reading, writing and watching TV shows on Netflix and my wii (this is a brilliant concept by the by). See, lazy. My friends and family think I’m searching for something good or better – and most of the time I talk myself into believing that too. But if I break it down – I know I’ve found an agent I’d love to work with, a story that will sell and a career I can be proud of. And yet, I’m not taking the next step. I’ve talked other people into taking the next step, but have yet to take the plunge myself.

Although I’ve worked hard for some things, many other things have been thrown right into my lap and I’ve refused to go for them. Maybe I’m afraid of rejection as so many writers (and everyone else) are? No, I’ve come to accept rejection and not take it personally (thank you foray into corporate America during major recession). I know my self worth and I’m really not into letting other people tell me differently. So what’s left? A lot of ennui and sloth – but this is also not true. Yes, I figured this all out while looking at book covers in Barnes & Noble – I have no idea what my facial expressions must have looked like while I perused the shelves, but the B&N staff are looking at me warily as we speak, so probably not so good.

What exactly have I figured out? Something I’ve always known and yet constantly push away and down. I may have even admitted it before on this very blog; the difference is that this time I’m going to try very hard not to quell my fears again…I am absolutely terrified of success. Wow, that’s incredibly lame when I write it down. But there it is – I’m mind-numbingly, nerves akimbo, hand-shaking and stutteringly afraid to succeed. I’m awash in hideous images of being too happy with my me life. Apparently I should have been born in Ancient Greece when most people were afraid to be too happy because the gods would be jealous and take it all away.

So hear I sit letting you all know how silly and self-involved I am. Trying to come to terms with the fact that I can have a career I enjoy, write a blog without feeling guilty and pretty much just be me. Turning the page here, I’m going to start reaching for those things thrown my way and act on them. I promise to keep you all posted, if you promise to hound me when I don’t act. I could use the support. (And for those reading this that already give the support – THANK YOU! I probably don’t say that enough.)

Enough of the self indulgent blog posts. Next time will be something decidedly more literary and interesting!