This Is a Tough One For Me To Admit
Posted by Moose on March 2nd, 2009. Filed under: Uncategorized.I don’t have much of a career. As someone who busted her tail in high school and achieved every goal she laid out for herself until the age of 18 (make the dance team for the profound honor of bouncing around a stage in a pouffy silver hat, get into a good college, pass geometry without wrenching open the classroom window and flinging herself out of it with a high-pitched keening wail), I’m not quite sure what happened.
When I was 23, I somehow landed a job as the associate editor of a small magazine in San Francisco. I learned a lot, I wrote about something I loved, and managed to survive in an expensive city doing it. (I didn’t survive with any kind of a savings account but I survived, damn it.)
Five years later, I decided I’d learned what I could from that job and quit to try freelance writing. And I…stumbled. It was a hard year for me, but that’s no excuse. People have hard years all the time without allowing it to send their career plans swirling down the septic tank. But I crashed my way through it as best I could.
Now that I’m on the other side of that wretched year, and the six months of Break-Up Damage Control following it, and the six months after that in which I remembered why I really do love my life, I want to inch my career toward Healthy and away from Limping/Nonexistent And Thanks For Bringing That Up.
Work has always been a tricky spot for me. I don’t know why that is. I’m fairly intelligent, I can be a good worker, I have a reasonable dose of ambition even though it’s been cowering under the bed covers lately. But something in me seizes up in fear when I think about Career And How To Get One.
I do have a job – and I’m monetarily comfortable for the first time since I was 21 and punching the dreaded corporate clock. (I have nothing against corporate jobs, except when they come with a blonde, Polish boss who tries to pit workers against each other because she’s a lesser minion of Satan put on earth to ensure tender college grads are toughened into stringy bits of jerky.) But for the first time since I was 23, I’m not working in my field. I’m not working in any field really, unless that field is Wrangling File Cabinets and Wrassling Photocopiers and Wondering How The Phrase “Vexatious Litigants” Got So Awesome.
When I got my current job, it was precisely what I needed: 1) a job, 2) some stability after coming off a rabidly unstable few years, 3) any way at all to support myself in an increasingly vicious economy, 4) would leave my brain free for writing.
Unfortunately, I haven’t written anything but this blog and a few rambling emails in almost a year.
Here’s something I’ve never told anyone: I’ve wanted to get an MFA in Creative Writing from Columbia since I was 19. Some of my favorite authors graduated from the program. I love the campus and Manhattan. I’d love to spend all my time reading and writing and contemplating syntax and symbolism while drinking far more espresso than is healthy. But I never even considered applying. Because it’s mad expensive; because I’d probably never get in; because people can write with or without an official writing degree, not like, say, performing appendectomies; because if I do go to grad school, shouldn’t it be for something that might reliably support me?; because I have thousands – maybe hundreds of thousands – of words buried in the depths of my hard drive that I will never show anyone.
When I was at Barnard doing my undergrad, Mary Gordon taught a writing workshop. You had to submit a short story to be considered for the class. I remember standing in the hallway staring in dismay at the clear plastic box where the stories were to be turned in. My roommate applied for the class, and I listened to her read her story thinking, “That’s really good. I could never do that.” So I never bothered.
Cue me, ten years later, banging my head lightly against my desk. It’s not that I didn’t take the class or that I didn’t get into the MFA program – both are reasonably likely outcomes – it’s that I NEVER TRIED. Because I decided, before making even the most token stab, that I couldn’t do it. That I wrote myself off so quickly makes me want to sprint to my time machine, set the dial to 1999, and pop out in a hissing fury to shake my 20-year-old self vigorously, set her butt down in a chair, and say, NO MORE CHOCOLATE UNTIL YOU DO THIS THING, MISSY. And I would either have a story – good, bad, or indifferent – or I would weigh five pounds less. Either would have been a win.
As much as I feel like writing is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, the only thing I can see myself doing, I’m scared of it. Not so much of failure (though I certainly am scared of that), but of mediocrity. Of churning out average and more average, of learning that writing doesn’t work for me as a career, and now I need to go find something else. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Or maybe I am just lazy. Current evidence supports either hypothesis.
I do know that I don’t want to live in fear of something as innocuous as words on a page. I don’t want to live in fear of anything, frankly, especially not books, those collections of paper I’ve loved for as long as I can remember. My hours and hours reading – after school in my bedroom, after bed time under the covers with a flashlight, listening to my father read me The Hobbit when I was three years old - are some of my clearest memories of childhood. A good bookstore will always be one of my favorite places on earth. I don’t leave my house without a book in tow. Reading is one of my greatest pleasures.
Not that any of this means I should be a writer. But it does mean I shouldn’t ever fear the written word or I might as well have tossed myself out that geometry classroom window. Not doing something because you’re scared is the most pitiful reason in the book, and trust me, that is a book I actually COULD write. I would call it Lame Excuses and the Women Who Cling To Them.
I’ve never gotten soggy when writing a post, not in my three-ish years of blogging. Not when I wrote about sex life doom. Not even when I blogged about ye olde break-up. But my eyes tear up as I write this because I don’t want to feel so helpless in the face of something I love so much.
The only thing I can do about this grinding fear – of failing, of being average, of never making a proper attempt and feeling my desire rot like a bucket of trout left in the sun – is write. Write more, whatever it is. Even if it scares me. Even if it’s unlikely to solve my Massive Career Problem. Even if it won’t support me in my middle or my old or any age. I have to do it anyway. Because I can’t see myself doing anything else. And I want to make my contribution to the legions of brave people who have put their words on paper and made my life so much better in the process.
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March 2nd, 2009 at 10:38 am
P.S. If you actually made it to the end of that unruly post, you deserve a medal. Or at least a cookie.
March 2nd, 2009 at 10:48 am
God, I love this post. Mostly because I relate to it in just about every way. I love reading and writing, but have somehow let being an English teacher substitute for my own writing practice. I love the fact that you admit to being afraid…me too.
Glad to know I’m not alone.
March 2nd, 2009 at 10:54 am
This is so universal, I think – I know many people (myself included) who don’t try to achieve their dream because of The Fear. I think your solution of Just Writing is the only thing you can do. And honestly? You ARE a writer. So there.
Let me know if you need my address to send me my cookie.
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:01 am
I have told you this before, but it stands true. You ARE a writer, and a damn good one. It is normal to fear the unknown, but you have come to that great place where you recognize that fear and are going to do something about it.
Awesome.
I’ll take a chocolate chip cookie. Or peanut butter.
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:12 am
How awesome would that be if we could all go back to our 20-year-old selves and give orders?!
I agree with Angella. You ARE a writer, a really good one.
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:18 am
Girl, you are me ten years ago. I was working as an Admin. Assistant after getting out of grad school, not able to find a “real” job. And I was bored out of my skull (but at the same time really, really comfortable, and those are ingredients that almost always foster stagnation.) Since I was a kid I’d wanted to be a writer, but I knew how hard it was going to be (breaking in is a bitch, yo), and I was terrified I’d spend all my time working on this dream and be told that I sucked. Nobody had ever seen my writing except me, and getting it out there to the world is scary as hell, so instead I just unjammed copiers and made pretty labels for files and answered phone calls for other people, and cried inside.
Fast forward to today, and I’m a bestselling author. And…I was rejected for years before I sold my first book. Because rejection happens to EVERY SINGLE DEBUT AUTHOR, and yeah, it’ll probably happen to you in the beginning. But here’s what’ll happen–You’ll keep getting better the more you write, and the agents you submit work to will give you more and more positive feedback, and that feedback will be the thing that keeps you going.
And then one day the call will come from your agent and you’ll dance around the living room in your moose slippers singing out of key, feeling like you’re going to explode. That’s exactly what I did (sans moose slippers) four years ago. The happiest day of my life so far.
Listen, you show us in every post how well you write, and the fact that you already have so many readers is a sign you know how to touch people. I wouldn’t tell this to just anybody, because man, there’s a lot about writing that sucks, and nobody should go into it unless they’re driven. It’s hard, it’s often boring, it’s painful and it’s stressful in ways I never imagined it would be. (I had this image of myself with a fountain pen and a Moleskine notebook, wearing flowing scarves, sitting by some river somewhere, writing my masterpiece. Then going out to lunch with Toni Morrison and coming back inspired, angels singing, a call from my editor with an eight figure deal…) Well it’s not like that at all. Instead I spend half my time staring at the wall. But when it’s awesome, it’s awesome.
Getting fanmail, good reviews, talking to book clubs and hearing them talk about your characters and the world you’ve created like they’re real, it’s the most amazing thing in the world. And the moments the writing just flows and you know exactly what you want to say, they make all the hard times worth it.
I seriously can’t wait to see your books on the shelves next to mine…
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:19 am
(Holy crap that comment was long…)
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:21 am
You could be a copy-monkey like me. Sure, it’s super corporate and the marketing schmoes all think they can write…but there is occasionally the fun naming/tagline/etc. challenge that makes it all worth it! Plus you can make good money while you’re at it – enough to pay rent on your lovely pad and still have a bit in the bank.
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:36 am
I agree with the other ladies. You are a damn good writer already and you should just get yourself out there. Don’t be afraid. You have no reason to.
BTW, going back to our 20-year-old-selves would be awesome. Can I come?
P.S. Where’s my cookie?
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:38 am
this is a wonderful post.
March 2nd, 2009 at 12:19 pm
I wrote about this exact same thing recently. I think we all struggle with this, especially those of us who are classic over-achievers. There’s something so terrifying about the concept of SUCCEEDING at something wild and wonderful, don’t you think? I’m trying to let go of the fear and DO IT, but I’m having a hard time, too.
March 2nd, 2009 at 12:19 pm
I love this post. Love it. And you. Just so you know.
March 2nd, 2009 at 1:13 pm
Write, Moose, write!
I’m delurking to let you know how much I enjoy reading your blog.
March 2nd, 2009 at 1:30 pm
I’m delurking, too, to say, as others have said, you are writer. I’ll go further, you are one of my favorite writers!
I check your website several times a week just to see if there’s new words from Moose.
I will definitely buy a book when there is one (not if) and I’ll buy copies for my friends. (Especially if it’s about women and their lame excuses!)
March 2nd, 2009 at 1:40 pm
the thing is .. those things that we are so freaking scared of, well, those are the things we need to do, the things we are meant to do, the things that will bring us the greatest joy just as elizabeth expresses so perfectly in the comment above …
i think you are a marvelous writer so take a deep breathe, learn from your regrets and dive in … those regrets are your lessons … i know i never comment but have been reading for years and i believe in you and i’ll bet lots of others do, know its time for you to start believing.
xo
March 2nd, 2009 at 1:41 pm
know = now though know kind of works too
March 2nd, 2009 at 2:02 pm
YOU SHOULD GO FOR IT. But PLEASE don’t apply to Columbia. It’s mad expensive and paying that back will take forever and further decrease your chances of following your dreams. Apply to Johns Hopkins and go for free! It’s ranked better anyway. Plus, who doesn’t love idyllic Baltimore? (I loved it.)
Here’s my mantra that you can use too:
Don’t think. Just write. Don’t think. Just write.
You’re not etching words into stone tablets in front of a jury of your peers. They’re just electronic marks no one ever has to see. There’s NOTHING to fear.
Plus, you’re very very talented and clever and awesome so I’m confident you’d write a fabulous book.
And as someone who has been down this route, trust me when I say the rejection never ends so even after you become a writer you’ll still be facing it…in Amazon reviews, from potential agents, from potential publishers, etc.
You just have to learn how to dust that dirt off your shoulders…like Jay-Z.
Also remember to work on your day-job career too. That’s my other piece of advice. Roughly 1% of published authors can comfortably live on what they make. The other 99% of us have day jobs.
But there’s NO reason you can’t write books and find a day job you like too. Scout’s honor on that.
March 2nd, 2009 at 3:09 pm
I want you to write more, too!!! Scott and I are BOTH eagerly awaiting the debut of your first novel, by one Mooselot.
March 2nd, 2009 at 3:45 pm
Moose, this post really hit home with me. Thanks so much for sharing it.
I finally DO have what I feel like is a career, for the first time in my life, and it actually does involve writing. But I struggle with the same sometimes-crippling self-doubt and fear over my non-work writing. I also desperately wanted to do an MFA in creative writing, but let fear and the clamor of voices screaming “impractical!” around me dissuade me. Ended up in a PhD program in English lit, instead, totally miserable.
Even though I say I’m working on a novel, the truth is that many days I let fear keep me from ever even sitting down at my desk. A few days ago I listened to a speech Elizabeth Gilbert gave recently about creativity and writing, and she said something that really stuck with me — that her job as a writer is NOT to craft the perfect work. Her job as a writer is just to keep on showing up. That’s what I’ve been trying to force myself to do lately.
Anyway, if you ever want someone to meet up in a cafe and write with, or someone to meet with to share our works-in-progress in a supportive environment, I’m totally there.
(P.S. Thanks for your comment on my post last week — I’m hanging in there despite the drama with my parents’ visit. Thank god for elliptical machines, yoga class, and gelato. We should get together soon.)
March 2nd, 2009 at 7:55 pm
When you wrote about the catch in your throat as you wrote this blog, I hope you recognized that as a real sign that this is what you’re here to do – to share your unique perspective on the world with others through your writing.
March 2nd, 2009 at 11:36 pm
Hi there. I recently found your blog through Nothing But Bonfires, and even though I haven’t been reading for very long, I am taken by your honesty and the courage you have in facing your fears. Thank you for your candor.
March 3rd, 2009 at 7:41 am
I don’t have any advice for you except to reiterate what many have already said — you are a wonderful writer with a natural talent. I feel much in the same place you are, wishing I could go back in a time machine and tell my younger self to just give things a try, so this entry really spoke to me. Although I’ve recently come to the realization after many years of thinking I wanted to be a writer, could be a writer, that I’m just…not. And that’s ok! But YOU are a writer.
March 3rd, 2009 at 9:59 am
Cookie? I always accept cookies. Yes, please.
Much of what you just wrote sounds very, very familiar to me. My best advice is to find yourself a good writing group with people who can give you good feedback on what you’re doing. It does two things: inspires accountability for actually getting writing done and improving it regularly, and gets you involved in a community with people who can introduce you to more people and help you find opportunities. Go for it.
March 3rd, 2009 at 10:02 am
You know, it’s never too late to apply for Columbia. Never. (I just thought I’d throw that in to torture you).
Look, the world is a big place with a million opportunities. There are plenty of ways to support yourself as a writer if that is what you want and that is what you are motivated to do.
More than that, though, life is a pretty brief thing. Take advantage of your passions while you still have them and while you still can, be that in the form of writing or wrangling photocopiers or instructing amateur skydivers. It’s easy to think of reasons to not do something, but when it comes to something like grad school I think you have to look at it this way: do what you love. Find a way to make money at it later.
March 3rd, 2009 at 10:20 am
for these exact reasons, exactly, i went into the back-end of publishing (that sounds way dirtier than it really is)…i.e., the editorial, the development etc. i help other people with their writing and getting published. it’s not as personally satisfying…but i get to be around words every single day, which is nice.
March 3rd, 2009 at 11:10 am
I think you and I share the same headspace (sorry it’s so messy).
Thank you for writing this. You’ve inspired me to open up that Word document that’s been taunting me for months, the one labeled “story.”
Good luck to you with your writing.
March 3rd, 2009 at 2:03 pm
I have similar feelings about musicianship. My dream is music-making, and I am also fearful of mediocrity.
I set myself the goal of doing 30 minutes of new composing every day. Didn’t get close to my goal, and I’m no better then I was before. But at least I keep trying now and again, and although I’ll never make it, and no one will ever hear my work, at least I know that i have a few songs sitting on my computer in the attic that no one has ever written except for me.
March 3rd, 2009 at 5:12 pm
First up, if you figure how to go back and give your 20 yo self advice, I’ve got a note you need to take to past-me!
Second, I came across this post by Felicia Day (yes, I’m a dork. Hi.) recently and actually found it very helpful for my own stuck-in-a-rut feelings. It’s about how she started writing: http://feliciaday.com/blog/how-i-started-writing
March 3rd, 2009 at 5:43 pm
Delurking to say thank you. I’ve put off for several days, and resigned myself to believing, that I never would finish a significant step required to return to school. And it was all due to fear! Well, that step has been completed and I return to school starting Spring term.
Thank you
March 3rd, 2009 at 6:38 pm
Oh goodness, yes, do it. I have my own regrets, mine regarding a writing career that never happened because I didn’t try, didn’t risk, didn’t work hard enough, was too lazy…you know, the usual excuses for why people don’t chase their dreams. You have talent, you really do, and I hope you realize your dream.
March 5th, 2009 at 3:57 pm
Wow, is this post ever filled with echoes from my own brain. The fear — where does it COME from? It’s so paralyzing. I stupidly did not take any fiction-writing classes in college because of that fear, and I’ll always regret that (and so many other things, but let’s focus on just this one).
And now I beat myself up all the time for not writing enough, or for not already having written whatever it is I think I was destined to write; yet somehow that does not actually lead to me sitting down and DOING something about it. What gives, self?
Putting this out there has to be a great first step. And as others have said, even if the hour a day dwindles into less or no one sees what you churn out in those sessions (although they should, because you’re great), that’s ok. The act of doing it is an end in itself.
March 6th, 2009 at 9:24 am
Amber, I don’t know how I missed this post earlier this week (my brain, it is evaporating, I swear), but I want to say (so many things! like) you really are such a talented writer, but the fear, that stops you dead in your tracks, I completely understand it, and I have it, too.
Sometimes it’s just sheer doubt. I stand in one of the largest bookstores in the country on a regular basis and think “What do I have to say that hasn’t already been said a thousand times over by wordsmiths from all over the world?” And then I remember, “SOMETHING.” I have a voice, just like they did and do, and I feel more called to use it by putting pen and ink to paper than I feel called to do anything else in this life.
I too have pined for graduate school, but I have to seriously ask myself if I’m stalling. Most of the time I am. I do want to go back to school, because I’m starting to understand I want to teach, eventually, at the collegiate level, but more than that I want to write, and write, and keep writing, because I know that I can and deep down I know it’s a waste if I don’t.
All of that to say: I believe in you, and you know I’m here if ever you need (cookies, or) a kick in the proverbial writing ass. I really do believe that if you (and by “you” I also mean “me, too”) show up daily, some serious magic is going to happen. But then, see, it won’t be magic at all, will it? It will be something even better.
March 6th, 2009 at 2:52 pm
Delurking to cheer you on! Keep writing. Do what you love. Thanks for this post.
March 6th, 2009 at 9:13 pm
There is nothing as valuable as doing what you were put on earth to do.
March 11th, 2009 at 7:46 am
Chiming in way late here to tell you that I loved this post. And if you really want to go to grad school, go. Here’s the other secret that some people have let me in on: You don’t have to go to the most enviable or expensive program. The great thing about the MFA seems to be that it affords you a space in your life to devote to writing. It becomes the central thing you do rather than the side thing you do.
Of course, you don’t need it. So if you really don’t want to go, don’t go. But it’s never too late.
And I also concur with other commenters: This fear is universal among aspiring writers and actual writers. You’re in good company. (Crazy company with issues, but GOOD company.)