WRITING

Apologizing for a Dream

I wrote my novel but feel I need to makes excuses for it

“I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.” — Vincent Van Gogh

I feel I need to qualify what I am about to say.

And herein lies the problem.

What I say to myself is not what I say to everyone else. I am in education, I mentor students and adults. I believe everyone is special and can accomplish what they want.

Yet even when I do something that so few have done, I turn the tables on myself.

Why can’t I just follow my own advice?

Climbing the Wall

Nearly half of Americans have an idea for a novel but the vast majority have never attempted to write one.

Only 15% of people have begun writing a novel. Out of those who begin, only 3% complete it and then only 0.6% have published.

It is a major accomplishment to complete a novel.

I ran an international school in Bali and am still actively involved. While the children were the primary focus, I was always amazed at the creativity within the parenting community. Most everyone I meet wants to write a book. Some had started but it sat dormant on their shelf or computer. One person had started a book ten years prior but could never find the time to finish it.

I started a Writing Club at the coworking center I co-launched at the school to allow people to come to a space where they could write and express their thoughts without any judgment or demands. I explained to people that there were no rules except that no one should ever apologize for being late, missing a day, or not writing.

Even with that, people would see me and tell me they were sorry. On our chat groups, people would send notes as to why they couldn’t make it.

With all the demands, judgment, and pressure in the world, I wanted to give people a space where they could truly be themselves.

Yet while I give this advice to others, I don’t give myself the same latitude.

Judgment

I have always wanted to write a novel.

Two years ago I signed up for a writing course and published my novel within twenty-four months. I initially only wrote my story for my children but then with pressure from my friends, I decided to publish it.

The entire process was a joy. I did not have writer’s block and I did not despair as I approached my desk to write each day. This may not be the case if I write another novel but in this instance, I was writing from a position of love for my children. My novel is a love letter to my children, sharing my thoughts on life while wrapping it in a dystopian setting.

I wasn’t writing for anyone but them. This didn’t mean I was slacking with my words or felt that I could just scribble down nonsense to fill pages. I worked at it and hired an editor and publisher.

But as people talk with me about my book, I always feel a need to make excuses and explain that it isn’t for everyone.

I know this as well as anybody. I spent two decades in media and technology. I understand consumer tastes and marketing demographics.

Even with all this knowledge and expertise, I don’t apply it to myself.

The Voice in My Head

Two years ago I had never written a novel. I have been published as part of an anthology, written prefaces for other novels, written newsletters for years, and I wrote an unpublished children’s book. So the novel was a crowning moment, a lifelong dream.

I diligently worked to complete the project and it is now available. I had no doubts while writing it but have doubts now.

This is the irony of writing, at least for me. We dream and work for a lifetime to accomplish something only to question what we have done once complete.

A friend of mine who enjoyed my book and gave it a strong review, asked if I would speak at his regular breakfast club with friends. I love to speak in front of groups. I have held workshops and talks for years. He wanted to buy books for everyone and then have me speak for a brief session. I was immediately thankful and happy to do it.

And then the doubt crept it in. I refer to this doubt as the shitty little lurker. I allow him to take control of my happiness at times. He is a voice reserved only for me, often telling me that I am not good enough.

I am not a depressed person. I am an optimist, and I have a good life. I have no real complaints. I see the good in the world. Anyone who comes to me with a challenge, I can walk them along a path to cross over almost any obstacle.

But that little voice inside of me is hard to quiet at times.

I wrote a novel. I am a writer. I am happy with what I have done.

You could have done better. People don’t like it. Your family is just being nice to you.

I had a dream to write a book and accomplished it. I am happy and content.

Mostly.

Butterfly is available on Amazon or can be ordered through any book retailer in the world.

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