Wednesday, June 17, 2009


You know, I'm not sure if I started this post to say I am inspired, or to say I wish I was inspired. How's that for a dichotomy?

I feel like I'm on the cusp of greatness; I'm just not sure how to start. I can hear my book rolling around in my head, and I'm wishing for that moment in Little Women when Winona Ryder as Jo first puts the tip of the pen to the page and then proceeds to write her entire novel in one night (or at least, that's how it appeared in the movie)(shamefully, I don't recall how it went in the book--which I have read).

I don't have a fountain pen like the visual from the movie, but my fingers are poised over the keyboard, which is silent and patient. The sound effect is a sound from my memory: the sucking Whish! of the whole band drawing in their breath together as the conductor raised his arms. I wonder, do they teach conductors in Band Conductor School just the right amount of time to wait to heighten the audience's anticipation without deflating their balloon? My fingers are still hovering, waiting to gush out my book, and I fear the members of my internal orchestra are on the verge of passing out before they've played a single note.

I wonder, what song will play when I finally start to type?

I also wonder what I need to move forward. A more comfortable chair? More time? Less distractions? Better computer? Better writing ability? All of the above?

Ha, probably all of the above, I guess. Boo. That's depressing. Especially the "better writing ability" part. I know I write well grammatically speaking, but what about content? Do I even have anything interesting to say?

We're supposed to get a new computer by the end of the year, and I've been working hard on exercising my writing voice. I've been writing in my journal every night. That plus the amount of blogging I do equals . . .

Huh. Seriously, is it really true that I have nothing interesting to say?

. . . a lot of writing that I've been doing lately. And I've been analyzing things that other people write and trying to figure out what it is that I find interesting (or uninteresting).

But I guess what it all comes down to is that I'm scared to write my book. What if no one likes it? What if it's horrible? What if it's dumb? What if I just keep getting rejected, rejected, REJECTED?

I should have stopped at the first rejection. Now I'm totally bummed.

It was a big blow when I realized I'll never be Big Career Woman. I've always believed not that I could, of course I could, but no . . . I've always believed that I would be Big Career Woman. I don't doubt that I could have, but unfortunately, I never really picked a career. It makes it pretty challenging to be Big Career Woman without--ahem--a career.

Whoops. Note to self: next time I need to choose a career! Got it. Write that down.

When I realized I was sans a career, it came as a shock. First I denied it for a while ("I do have a career, dammit!"), then I was delusional for a while ("There's still time to find a career!"), then I was flat-out dumb for a while ("Maybe I'll just go pick one up at the store?"). And then I started getting used to the idea of NOT having a career, and I started to accept it, and then (hallelujah!) I moved on and played the Glad Game. Which worked, by the way, fantastically so. Because I remembered that Danny's dream of being Big Career Woman (whoops) . . . yeah, Big Career Man, that is, is well on its way to coming true! Not there yet, but he's on the right track at least (whereas I not only missed my train, I didn't even know what train station I was supposed to be at).

What I wouldn't give for a flying car right about now. Hey, it worked for Ron and Harry! You know, Harry Potter?

Forget it.

At any rate, Danny is determined to be Big Career Man, and when he is . . . hot diggity! That's when the fun will begin. No more commute, no more full-time office job. I suppose I'll have my office in the barn, but no more being in The Office.

I'm so grateful for my college degree. Most days it comes very much in handy. You know, I'm really glad I gave $50,000 to a university so I could learn how to use a copy machine, unjam a copy machine, use a fax machine, use a postage meter, type a Word document, format a letter, use Excel, use PowerPoint, pick my butt, and keep track of every executive level employee in the office at every moment of every day. "Where's Schmuck?" "Where's Dimwit?" (I have little pet names for just about everyone, isn't that nice?)

But wait just a second . . . I didn't learn ANY of those things in college! WTF? Can I have my money back?

My little aside thingys are getting out of control. I think I've got too many. I really like having my commentary set apart like that, but I wonder if it's distracting to read? I think I'll cool it for a while and only do it when it's absolutely necessary for aesthetics.

Don't you agree?

Just kidding. I'm totally wavering. I don't know what to do. Votes posted as comments (either way: "Yes, great, keep 'em comin'!" or "Stop! Gasp! Too much!") are much appreciated.


I should probably just move on from the university bashing. Some of my best memories are from college, and I certainly don't regret going. I know it's all my fault. Shoulda picked a career. Any career! But even though technically I majored in English, I felt Undecided when I walked down the aisle and received my diploma. Put that in your butt and smoke it.

So, now what? What's a No Career Woman supposed to do in this situation? Cue: beginning of post: My inspiration dichotomy dilemma. It may be too late to be Big Career Woman, at least there's still time for my book. It's never too late for that.

Enter: Inspiration!

End scene.

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