It’s been months since I’ve posted anything to Brick Sandwich. I’m sorry if you were left hanging. I haven’t been sitting on my ass, picking my ass, blowing smoke out of my ass or whatever people do with their ass when they aren’t posting to their blog.
I’ve been working on two other writing projects that are near and dear to my heart.
Before we get into that, I want to share something personal with you:
I AM A WRITER.
The statement may seem ridiculously obvious or even silly to you, but it took months to admit this to myself.
I have always had a good idea of who I was. As many people do, I used that idea as a litmus test of sorts. I will do this…I will definitely not do that. It gave me a sense of control. Some have served me well (I just say nope to dope and ugh to drugs!); others have kept me from expanding my horizons. I have been guilty of providing friends and acquaintances lists of what I don’t do. At the time, I thought it was good way to let people know where I stood, but really it meant that I wasn’t willing to take a chance – big or small. I’ve since realized that if I want to grow on my journey through this life, I need to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Otherwise when I make my trip across the river, I’ll be comfortable - with all of my regrets.
One of my more concrete ideas: I am not a creative person.
I’m married to an artist and I know that I’ve told him on more than one occasion that there was “…only room for one creative person in this family.”
Thinking about it now brings to mind the texting shorthand: ROFLMAO!
A few years ago, we were driving and I shared with him a story idea. I’d come up with it about 10+ years before, but something in our conversation brought it to mind.
Once I told him the story’s premise, he only said one thing: Write it down.
I protested. There’s no point to that, I said. I had my list of reasons – the first one being that I was not a writer. That seemed good enough – at least I thought so. He wasn’t buying it. So, to prove my point, I accepted the challenge.
Unbelivably, it took a few months of dedicated evenings. At first, I wrote the story out longhand. I’d filled up a spiral notebook with my scribble, so I had the bright idea to type up what I’d written so far and then finish the story on my computer.
The typed version turned out to be 120 pages. Double spaced.
Oh, and I still had about 60% more story to write.
I showed my husband. Do you know what he said?
You see? You are a writer!
Oh fuck.
He might be right.
I flipped out. I had a minor nervous breakdown. I was a writer?!?!? When in the hell did that happen? What does that even mean? I work in Corporate America. I’d made it my unending goal to climb that ladder. How can a writer and a business person be in the same body?
If I was wrong about being a writer, what else am I wrong about? Who am I?
Yes, it got that deep.
I stopped writing. I thought putting some distance between myself and those pages might give me a chance to get used to the idea or forget about it altogether.
Months later I started Brick Sandwich. It felt like something I needed to do. It was like dipping my toe in the water. I would let the story be – for now.
Fast forward another 18 months. I was posting to Brick Sandwich regularly and was starting to get comfortable in my writing skin.
From time to time, the Universe would whisper to me via my friends and family.
What happened with your story? They would ask.
My reply was pretty the same: Oh, that? I’m taking a break and just working on the blog for now.
Then in January 2011 my Nana died. I was absolutely heartbroken and it shook me up. Intellectually, I knew that my grandmother would not live forever, but you always hope – right?
Through my tears I could now see clearly: I’m not going to live forever either. I needed to start really living or else I was just waiting to die. The first step on that road is being honest with myself about who I am.
I AM A WRITER.
I know that’s right because it feels like breathing. Even when it’s hard, it’s easy. When it’s a struggle to put words to paper, the pain of it still feels exhilarating, like being on the verge of figuring something out. When the words are coming so fast that my fingers can’t keep up, there is a delicious, intoxicating, abiding warmth that wells up inside of me. It’s so mind blowing that sometimes I’ve felt like I could fly – or at least levitate if I really concentrated.
I am in partnership with the Universe – creating, destroying and creating again – depending on the story. My characters are real people - at least in my mind.
Writing feels like being home, with the heater on, under the covers on a rainy day. I don’t want to be anywhere else.
I am still working on these projects and working on being the best writer I can be.
I can’t give more details about them just yet, but I encourage you to leave the idea of who you are in a box for just a while. Put that box in the back of the closet of your mind and go out and experience the world. Do something daring, try new foods, change your routine, speak to a stranger, anything that challenges the boundaries of your comfort zone. If you’re doing it right, it will feel disconcerting and scary. Maybe even painfully so, but the rewards are immeasurable. You will be a better person.
As for the fate of Brick Sandwich, I am not ready to part ways with her yet. I won’t be able to post as frequently as before, but I will post at least once a month. If things are flowing, it may be more.
This is my journey. Thank you for taking it with me.
See you in March!
