Let's Do This

I've decided to write a book.


If you Google "write a book," what you will discover is that all humans and their grandmothers' hairdressers are planning to write, or are in the processing of writing, a fucking book. It's like blogging. There are something like 12 trillion blogs being written right now, which means that every person on the planet is writing approximately 1700 blogs. That's a lot of blogging! And it's also discouraging, because I see blogs like: "Hi! This blog is about my cat Roofikins Squashpants and his adventures in the backyard!" and they have over 100,000 views. My blog has like 6 views per day. And now I'm planning to write a book. Sheesh.


I've felt compelled to write for as long as I can remember and created my first story before I had mastered the physical act of writing. I had to utilize the writing skills of older people like my mother, sister, and grandmother, who graciously took dictation for  me. The first story I "wrote" in this fashion was called The Ugly Duckling (not to be confused with the famous children's story of the same name). It was about a duckling who was so ugly that he decorated a colorful box and wore it over his head. This made it difficult for him to see anything and easy for him to be duped by thieves who tricked him into robbing a bank for them. He thought they wanted him to be their friend. Sad story. I didn't finish it.

I cannot believe I just found this picture.

Throughout my childhood, I started several books. Every single one began with the line: "Hi!  My name is..." What each of my stories had in common was the same first line (inserted with a different, snazzy protagonist's name), lots of yelling (I have no idea why; there was no yelling in my life outside of these stories), and a length of about five pages before halting abruptly, sometimes mid-sentence.


I wrote throughout my youth and into college - short stories; book beginnings; songs; screenplays - avoiding only poetry because poetry blows (or maybe I just don't get it). I clung to the idea that I wanted to be a professional fiction writer, despite being discouraged from that path on a regular basis by most anyone who had my best interests in mind. Finally, during my senior year of college, I decided to speak to a career counselor about becoming a writer. I sat with a woman in the counseling center and poured out my soul to her, explaining how I'd been creating stories since before I could write, loved nothing more than developing characters and their lives, and felt like being a writer was my one true destiny.


The counselor listened patiently to my thorough disclosure and then informed me that being a fiction writer would be an impossible career path. She suggested that, since I loved writing so much, I try one of the following alternatives:

• writing for an advertising firm
• writing for a management consulting firm
• writing for a venture capital firm

Thanks for the advice, jerk.

At that point, I decided to give up the idea of being a fiction writer. I'd received enough messages clearly informing me that it wouldn't work, so I looked for alternatives. Since I was interested in human beings and the way they function in the world, I studied psychology, which led me into the social service field. This career path has been quite perfect for me. Social service work is consistently interesting and profoundly rewarding, albeit sometimes exhausting and soul-crushingly painful as well. I have been satisfied with this type of work for almost 15 years now, which is a big deal for me. Usually, individual ventures hold my attention for about 2-6 months. Granted, I've worked in seven different settings, but all have been in social services, and it's all been pretty positive.


A few weeks ago, I went back east to visit family and friends. I spent one night with my friend Laura, a woman I've been friends with since we were 8 years old. [Laura is also the friend featured in the post about my most embarrassing moment.] We stayed up late chatting, and at one point during our conversation, she told me her sister-in-law is writing a book. Then she said, "You should write a book. Really. You need to return to your roots."


Old friends are amazing like that. They've watched you age and seen how you have become the person you are. You cannot hide or recreate yourself with old friends; they remember your past and your dreams, and they hold you accountable for all of it. If you still have people in your life who you've known since you were a kid, I recommend you hold onto them.

This will be Laura and me in 50 years.

Laura's advice and encouragement allowed me to take an honest look at the unsettled, frustrated part of me that has been nestled in the back of my consciousness for years. After examining it for a little while, I came to the conclusion that, yes, I do need to write a book, and I'm going to do so.


The most difficult thing about starting the process of writing a book isn't writer's block or a lack of ideas. The most difficult thing is that I wrote a couple of stories in the past, submitted them for publication, and had them rejected.  


OH MY GOD, I HATE BEING REJECTED SO MUCH! IT MAKES ME WANT TO KILL EVERYONE ON EARTH!  


Ahem. Please excuse me. I had a psychotic Leo moment there.

Curse you, pointy finger!  I hate you!

But what I need to remember is this (and you have no idea, unless you are a Leo, how difficult this is for a Leo): rejection is part of being a writer. As in all things in life, some people will like what I do, and other people won't. This is because some people are smart and cool, and others are buttheads.

Okay, so here I go. I'm thinking of starting the book this way:


Hi! My name is Roofikins Squashpants, and this is my story.


Just kidding. I'm sure I'll think of another method of introduction. Somehow.

Here I am, gazing confidently in the direction of my dreams. :)