This week has been hard on me creatively. It’s not that I haven’t been creative, but I have had a hard time figuring out my topics for the blog. For example, I got up this morning and hadn’t thought twice about the fact that I had NO CONTENT for today. Much less I hadn’t written anything.
Here’s a little known fact, I’ve been working on a book. And when I say working on a book, I really mean I have 6 Google Docs with a paragraph of the beginning, middle, or end on them. I also have a legal pad with the same type of content, but different chapters, on them. Nothing fully vetted or constructed. You see, this is my first book. Well, probably my first two books. One is totally southern, fiction lit and the other, well, it’s more about paralyzing fear. You know, when you want to do something, but you are so afraid of failure that you stop cold in your tracks?
That’s clearly a topic I know well. I have thought about making a career change for years. It’s not because I don’t love my team, but more that I want to have a more creative job. It was the writing part of my job that showed me that I have a little creativity here, but its only made me want more of it. In my line of work, if I want to be creative, I have to move to New York. Let’s be clear here, moving to New York is out of the question. I’m wanting to move SOUTH. If you follow me on Instagram, you know exactly where.
I’ve worked side jobs for the last 5 years with some good friends. They are designers. Every time they ask me to help them, I thrive on it. And honestly, I do it for free for them because I crave that kind of creative work so much. They offer to pay me, but I never feel like it’s work. So, I let them feed me nice meals and we call it even. They are giving me opportunities to learn new things and be creative and I love it! I also know that they wouldn’t let me fail at it.
I know that I know how to write. English has been my jam my whole life. I learned to read at an early age. I was in the “gifted” English classes in elementary school. Sylvia Samet pushed me on my reading when I was in high school and had me reading books I never would have picked out for myself. I am truly grateful to this woman for making me read. And God put her in my life for that reason….who else had her TWICE in high school for English (freshman and junior years)? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller?
English was also a favorite in summer school in college. I had another professor at summer school at UNCG that I adored. I can only remember her last name, McDonald, because McDonald is a family name. She was passionate about the written word. We read so much that summer. And yet, at no point in my life did I think, hey….why don’t you change your major to English? Nope, not me. I want to be an interior designer. I just rolled my eyes when I said that out loud to myself. I have the eye for color and I worked at it for a bit, but not with the same passion I had for reading and writing.
So, what’s the deal with my own fear? Why am I so afraid to fail? Hmm. Well, part of it is being afraid of losing everything. Yet, you’d think I would know that even if I lose everything, I’ll come out on the other side just fine. I sit here now to tell you that in the not so distant past, I lost “everything” and lived to tell the tale. I didn’t feel like a failure, I just knew that the things failing were lessons. And as I type right now, I see that the lessons were to show me one thing: if I don’t take a chance, if I risk nothing, then there is always the possibility that you will still lose it all. So the question is….what if I don’t fail?