I’ve never been very good with follow through. I know. It’s a big thing to admit, right? But I feel like maybe, if I put it out there, I’ll miraculously become really good at it. Because that’s usually works, right?
I suppose I shouldn’t say I’m not good at doing. Or at following through in some vein of life. I mean, I have managed to successfully stay married for almost a decade of my life. And I think my husband still digs me. So I suppose that’s something. I have three children who are still hanging with me day after day. And in my former life as an employee, I believe follow through was a strong suit of mine. But in the way of wedding gifts, birthday cards, guitar lessons, and writing, I’m not the best at seeing things through. It’s when it comes to me being the motivator for myself… that’s when it all falls apart.
I saw recently that another mom blogger was going to be taking a break from blogging to work on her book.
I immediately felt a lump in my throat.
I think my upper lip even got all perspirey.
And my eye started to twitch.
I felt like I should lace up my sneakers and outrun the anxiety that was building up. Because at least when I start running, I finish. Because I have no other choice.
Her book.
I’ve been talking about writing a book for some time. For over 4 years, in fact. Yet the only steps I’ve taken toward this goal include the following:
1. Give the book a working title.
2. Start a document with working title on my computer.
And so, for over 3 years, a document entitled, My Book {that also has a working title}, has been staring back at me every single time I log on. But this other woman {who, for the record, I don’t even know}, she’s into it. And actually doing. And that made me feel uncomfortable. Like the discomfort I felt when I was 9 and told my parents I’d returned the rented Sleepless in Seattle VHS to the video store when, in fact, it was safely hidden under my pillow because I was now more afraid of getting in trouble for not doing it and so I just kept up the lie. When I saw that someone else was writing a book, working on their dream –their dream that is my dream, too — and that they are actually committing themselves to the reality. It made me uneasy. For never really starting. For never really trying. And for keeping that hidden deep inside… another thing, not completed.
The issue… with the doing and the book… well… I just don’t know where to start. Does this ever happen to you? Where you know what you want to accomplish… why you want to do it… you know that you’re the who that needs to do it… you just don’t know the how. And the when, well, that’s just a whole different story. I have the outline in my head. Except for the beginning.
And then there’s the other reason that I haven’t even begun. I’m scared.
Hello, my name is Ashli and I’m 32 and I’m scared.
I’m scared people will laugh at me. For attempting to take this little blog thing and turn it into more. This little, unpaid, 52 followers, mere hundreds of views a post thing… and try to make it bigger. And though I don’t usually give one bit of hooey if people laugh at me, because this is really a leap, I think it might completely dismantle any sort of gumption I’ve gotten up.
I’m scared it won’t be any good. I’m not even scared that no one will read it. Because my goal to write a book is not to be on any best seller lists. Or even, honestly to sell any. Truly, madly deeply. My goal is to accomplish the goal.
I’m scared that because someone else is already doing it, I can’t do it too. Because there are 9 million books and blogs out there on motherhood, so I fear I have nothing new to offer. Comparison, they say, is a thief of joy… and in this instance, comparison is telling me to not even try because if I’m simply recreating, if it’s not as good as everyone else’s efforts, well, then, there’s no point.
I’m scared that I won’t finish. I can’t even start. How on earth will I finish? And then, for now, it’s just one more thing to add to my long list of things I can’t make happen. At least right now, it isn’t unfinished. Because it hasn’t even truly begun.
And yet, I am most scared of not doing it. That if I don’t do it, I am going to lose me. My little dream. My goals. My agenda. Are there things you don’t do because you’re scared? If motherhood has taught me anything it is that it is very easy to put me on the back burner. Heck, I am nearly 10 months past due for a dental check-up. And it’s easy to use motherhood as an excuse to push it all off for another day. Another time. Another stage. It is very easy to support the goals of my husband. To be the cheerleader for my 3 year old. To be the high fiver for my 5 year old. And to be anything and everything for my 9 month old. Those things get top billing. Unless I make an effort otherwise.
So for now, I’ve upped the ante a bit for myself. And I’ve made a personal goal to write 5 posts a week. Monday through Friday, I’m turning my brain on, getting it in the mode to write. To think like a writer. To share like a writer. And to become a writer. And that, well, that’s my first step. My first step to keeping hold tight to a piece of myself. Of the thoughts that are mine. And mine alone. And it’s also an exercise in doing on my own. And of feeling a sense of personal achievement that no one else is directing. And seeing where that takes me.
And so I carry this thought with me daily, now…
“Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere.”
― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
And I tell myself that I am at the start. And though I don’t know what the finish looks like, I think I’ll know it when I get there. And at least for now, this is the start.
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