This morning I read a post on Lynn Palermo’s blog The Armchair Genealogist that really spoke to me. It was “Blog to Book:Finding Your Writing Routine.” At times it was like she was reading my mind. I found myself talking back to the computer screen and nodding in acknowledgment. Luckily no one saw me, so there were no mom-has-gone-crazy-again stares.
Lynn shared her story of becoming a writer in this post,
and I found it encouraging. Until the
last few months I would only tell my closest friends that I had really started
to love writing. A few weeks ago I told
a complete stranger that I was a writer.
It was liberating. It was
scary. It was so unexpected! I just blurted it out when I was asked what I
do. “oh, you know. I am a stay-at-home mom and I write a family
history blog.” Where in the world did that
answer come from?
As a child I had been told several times by teachers that
I couldn’t write. Which, as with my
artist streak (another story about how I believe all I am told) I
subconsciously took to heart. I couldn’t
diagram a sentence and still don’t understand how to use punctuation
correctly. Verbs, nouns, pronouns,
adjectives… make it stop! Just let me
put the words onto the paper.
I struggled with writing prompts through school, drug my heels on
papers, and cringed at the thought of having to share my thoughts or ideas with
the class. My one bright spot seemed to
be creative writing. I earned repeated praise for
my poetry, fictional short stories, and other creative writing
assignments. When I was in 4th grade I sat down at the family computer (an apple IIe) and wrote a 10 chapter novel about a girl in colonial Maryland. To be fair, 4th grade was the year I studied Maryland State History. But, I wasn’t a good
writer. Nope, not me; just ask all my
teachers. Well, except one. When I was a junior in high school my honors
English teacher was great. This was the
year for creative writing and all of the sudden I was an A student for the
first time ever. That should have told
someone, anyone, something about me.
Twenty years later and here I sit struggling with the
thought that maybe, just maybe, I could be a good writer. Maybe, just maybe, someone would be
interested in hearing what I have to say.
Could it be true? I know that I
type so fast words get lost from my brain to the keys. I know I still struggle with the proper usage
of the comma (just ask the poor soul who reads my FTF blogs before I send them off). However I
have learned to love the written word again.
I now write on a daily basis, and I have found that I could spend hours
at my computer putting thoughts to paper if I could.
Does that make me a writer?
If it does… what do I do next?
Well, besides swallow that knot in my throat
and take a plunge… any plunge… into the world of free-lance.
I have wonderful friends and family who have been
encouraging me to take this leap. Why
don’t I write I book? Why don’t I write
some articles? Why don’t I do some more
research and really write an in depth history of X family? Well… why shouldn’t I?
First… I just have to kick this fear of failure to the
curb. Yes, I have to get over the fact that I may fail. On the other hand I could be a sucess. Just need to throw that doubt out, like I somehow did when I started this blog.
photo credit: Joel Bedford via photopin cc
and Dave Dugdale via photopin cc
I've been transcribing 100 year old letters between my grandparents while they were courting. As I type away I think about writing a book to document their story. And even though I go through self-talk (who would read it, how would I do it, do I have the time, blah, blah, blah) I think one day I just might! I AM A WRITER!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing! Aren't those old letters amazing? I am slowly working through several myself.
ReplyDeleteYou can do it!Let me know when you do publish so I can read it too!!