Start the Week...

I just sent Dana our first exchange piece of the year. For my part I told her I'm sending her all the half formed, half baked, I'm not sure if there's anything here ideas. 

Today's was a prime example of it. I have an idea that's sort of formed. And it's an idea for a much longer story than I normally tell. Like possibly novella length? Maybe like Witches in the Wonky Tower. 

But then again maybe it's not. Maybe it's just a scene in my head and there isn't anything else? 

So I wrote up what I had, both ways, and sent them off to Dana. Here, you read this now. Or don't. But at least it's out of my head and can breathe for the next week while I decide if I write another section of it to send on or if that's it. 

But at the end of the year I'll have a folder of work that is or isn't something. Some of it will probably end up posted here for my fiction piece for the week. And who knows maybe something will strike me enough to send off for a submission again. It's been awhile since I've crushed my muse's heart in that way.

I keep thinking I've reconciled myself to not publishing. At least not publishing outside of this venue. I just don't want to work at it like that. Driving to dinner Friday night Brent and I were talking about it. About the work that it takes to actually publish a book, or do creative work at all. I said I had watched Shay and Melynda and Dana and Conor and other friends of mine and what all they went through and go through and I was like...yeah, no. 

And he got quiet and then said, "I don't want this to sound as insulting as it might but...you don't like to work. I mean you can, don't get me wrong, you can be really head down dedicated, but if you have the choice you'd rather just..." and he trailed off. 

"Have fun."

"Yeah."

Now I can see why he'd be worried he was being insulting, but I'm not insulted by that. I spent a lot of years working. Head down, succeeding at what I did. Hearing my Dad's voice in my head that if I was going to do something I always had to be the best. Now, not that he said I had to be the best, it was just his assessment of my personality. That anytime I decided to take something on I had to be the best. And it's true. I didn't want to do things if I couldn't be the best.

And because of that I missed out on a lot of really cool things. 

I never allowed myself to do things just for the fun of them. There was always an end game. If I had a job I was working toward the next promotion. I had to be employee of the month. If I decided I liked a class I had to be the best in the class. And then when I realized that ruining the curve for everyone else while at the same time being bored out of my head in class kind of sucked I decided to not strive and to just do what I had to do to get by. Which I regretted senior year as I saw the top ten in our class standing on stage and realized that I should have been there. I should have been one of the best. Freshman year I was absolutely in the mix with that group.

Most of you met me after those years were over. You know the me that has coloring books and weird goals around writing and reading and just lives my life with zero fucks about what anyone else thinks about it. The sort of person who does not get mad when their spouse says, in so many words, "I'm not saying you're lazy but you aren't what I'd call driven."

I do worry about it, just because since I've chosen this path Brent has a lot more money pressure on his head, but as he will point out, that's his personality anyway. And my "hey! slow down and pretend to be a rose." way of living helps keep him from burning out. It's not like I force him to succeed, he just succeeds and I force him to enjoy the fruits of his success instead of looking to see what the next level might be. 

Or at least, that's what I tell myself.

And he agrees. As we talked about it more he also said, "You'd be really happy with a lot less." A nice way of saying I'm pretty basic. Now do not get me wrong, I love a lot of our fancy things. I love being able to fly first class to Hawaii and lay on a beach (for five minutes before I drag him into the water). I love that I don't have to worry about the fact that eggs have doubled in price this year. I love that if I see a new dress I can buy it without months of budget rearranging. But...I'd be fine if none of that had happened. And I never view that as mine. 

Which is weird. And Brent does not agree. 

But I always view it as I am lucky enough to live Brent's lifestyle. The one he strove for and worked to get. I am lucky enough that he brought me along for this fabulous ride we've had. But...

I'm a burgers and books kind of gal and I'm okay with that.

I'm okay that I don't feel the need to stress over if my writing will ever be good enough. I did that for a long time and what it did was make me not want to write. If I can't be the best... 

But shifting back to not needing to be the best. Not needing to do anything beyond the part that makes me happy. The creating a story and sharing it with at least one person who hopefully enjoys it. That shift makes all the difference in my life. 

I'm a basic bitch hedonist and I'm okay with that. 

Sorry, Dana, you're going to get a lot of crap this year because of it. But maybe it will be what you need to make you see how freaking good you are at what you do. 

And as for the rest of you reading this, I hope you find something to do in your life that you do just for the joy of it. Not to be the best at it, but just because it makes you happy to do.