No Guts, No Glory

I've been writing ever since I could write. Not writing would be like not breathing. It is the most effective kind of Spiritual Lipstick for me. I always said that "someday" I would pursue writing as a career in earnest. But...I left home at 18, and I had to eat. So I took a series of well-paying but essentially meaningless jobs and climbed my way up the corprorate ladder. I was proud of having worked my way up to the position I held, but it was still just a job, and a boring one at that.

Then I had kids. While pregnant with my first child, I lost my job in a corporate reorganization. After a couple months of panic we realized we could make it work on one salary and I became a stay at home mom. The next ten years FLEW by in a blur of sleepless nights, and action packed days. I truly enjoyed being a stay at home Mom, and I really believed in the value of staying at home. But I'll admit that I'm one of those women who became consumed by motherhood. I made no provisions for the day when the kids would no longer be my entire focus.

Two years ago, after 9 years of being on duty 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, my youngest entered kindergarten and suddenly, I had six glorious hours to spend in whatever selfish pursuit I desired. I almost didn't know what to do with myself. I dabbled in PTA for a while, chairing the Cultural Arts Committee for several years. I found it enjoyable and rewarding, and it gave my atrophied brain some much needed exercise. But soon the politics (yes, politics in Elementary School PTA...this is not your Mother's PTA honey.), the cliquishness and the petty bickering wore thin. I bowed out as gracefully as I could and while I don't regret a moment spent trying to create and promote enrichment programs for the school, nor do I regret the decision to step down. My life is infinitely more enjoyable without a dagger protruding from between my shoulder blades.

I became a Doula for a while, and found it enormously fulfilling. But natural birth hasn't really caught on here in the South, where, despite the progressive window dressing, new ideas take a long time to gain acceptance. Most of the time my proposals were greeted with a blank look, a non-commital nod, and a promise to get in touch. When I did land a client, I felt impeded and frustrated by archaic and restrictive hospital policies and legislation regarding home birth that was ambiguous at best. I seriously considered enrolling in Midwifery school, but I had to be realistic about the burden this would place on my family. Its an arduous process with heavy demands on time and personal resources.

So I started writing again. I never really stopped, but I certainly hadn't been putting the kind of energy into it that allowed me to turn out anything of substance. I started making a point to write each day and it felt GOOD. And I've come to the realization that "someday" is upon me. I don't want to wake up one day and realize that "someday" has come and gone. I read that Frank McCourt didn't write Angela's Ashes until he was 64. I think that's admirable, but frankly, I don't want to wait that long. Already I feel that I've wasted too much time.

I don't even know where to begin. So I did what I always do when that is the case: I hit the bookstore and purchased an armload of books on how to get started on a writing career. I subscribed to Writer's Digest and I scoured the web and bookmarked about a million blogs by and for writers. I may even take a few classes at the local university.

I don't expect this to happen overnight and honestly, I will be astounded if it happens at all. I've got no "clips" and I've got no practical experience, but I've also got nothing to lose. So, if you're a writer and you have some advice to offer. Lay it on me. I am all ears.