Dear Loved One by Karen S. Elliott

I am so fortunate to welcome freelance editor and writer extraordinaire Karen S. Elliott to Motivation for Creation.  The first time I met Karen was through the Writer Unboxed blog, and then through the WU Facebook group.  Always helpful and friendly, she gave me some advice about some questions I had regarding blogging.  Just recently, we reconnected when I signed up for a Linked In account, and her e-mail happened to be in my contacts.  We started talking, and ended up deciding to swap some blog posts! This particular post is a favorite of mine, and I think you all will enjoy it as well!

Dear [Loved One]: I am a writer

My name is not Shakespeare, Poe, Bronte, or Rowling, but I am a writer just the same.

I may not be a doctor, lawyer, or executive chief, but my writing – to me – is just as critical. Can you indulge me, just a few moments?

You read articles in People, Sports Illustrated, Time, or Cosmo about the problems with celebrities and their children, the latest athlete arrested for drugs or spousal abuse, the trouble on Wall Street, or how to apply your make-up for a night on the town. However, when I try to talk to you about the article in Writer’s Digest about e-book vs. print book or how to improve my web presence, you give me the hand wave and say, “Who cares?”

You’ll spend a half hour with your nose in a catalog for new clothes, a new computer, or new hunting gear. I’ll spend a little time trying to find that just-right creative writing class or the perfect book for getting my novel to market, and you tell me I’m wasting my time.

I supported you when you wanted to start a small business, when you wanted to get out of a small business, when you wanted to start a new job, or retire. When I have a great idea for a new book or realize the book I’m writing must be shelved, you say, “Oh well” without lifting your head.

I’ve spent hours in the car with you to get to the ball game, watch the ball game, and get home from the ball game. I’ve watched, waved, and smiled as you pull out of the driveway on your way to that week-long hunting or fishing trip or when you were going for a girls’ weekend at the spa. But when I plan a day-long workshop at the local university or a weekend conference in Vegas or Seattle, you ask me, “What about the kids?” “What about dinner?”

I’ve sympathized over your aching joints or shin splints, your aching back, and your stress-related headaches. But when I describe my tired, bloodshot eyes or I’m afraid I might have carpal tunnel, you remind me you told me I shouldn’t spend so much fruitless time at the computer.

I’ve observed as you spend hours watching L&O marathons, night after night of Dancing With The Stars or American Idol or weekend sporting events. But if I ask for one hour of uninterrupted time to hash out a new outline or finish my edit, you complain.

You go online and spend hours sifting through junk email, silly chain mail, and funny pictures. You play farm games, card games, or puzzle through Sudoku. I spend online time with writers, agents, publishers, editors; I learn about writing, how to query an agent, or how to land a publisher. And you wonder why I don’t do something productive.

You regale me with stories of the quirky character at the grocery store, the fabric store, or the paint guy at Home Depot. But if I try to describe one of my book characters, one of my villains, or my protagonist’s triumph, your eyes glaze over.

I agreed when you wanted to upgrade to a $1,000, 54-inch TV, when you wanted another new car or yet another pair of designer leather boots. Yet you scoff when I want to spend $500 on a weekend writers’ conference or a professionally-designed website.

You spend hours tending your garden, washing and waxing your F-150 baby in the driveway, or creating the perfect lasagna. But you tell me I’m wasting time when I struggle over the perfect paragraph, the perfect opening line, the perfect surprise twist.

I celebrate with you when your second cousin in Alaska has her first baby, your aunt and uncle buy a retirement condo in Florida, or your friend in Arizona graduates from ASU. The birth of my novel is barely a blip on your radar.

I have coddled you through the flu, knee surgery, and that pesky rash. I have consoled when you were depressed and commiserated with you over what the boss had the nerve to do on any given day. Yet when I try to tell you how much mind-bending, sleep-losing trouble I’m having with my final chapter, you suggest I just give it up.

You will read a book if it’s on the NYT Best Sellers list (by someone you don’t know and have no hope to ever meet), a tell-all book by a politician you didn’t vote for, or a memoir by your favorite sports figure. Why won’t you open my manuscript?

You read numerous blogs every week about cupcake-decorating, care and feeding of a Labrador, how to paint a War Hammer figurine, or how to grow the perfect rose bush. Why won’t you sign up for my blog?

I hope we never have to talk about the death of my dream. I’m afraid you won’t listen.

***

Karen was raised by a mother who wanted to be an English teacher and who worked for Merriam-Webster as a proofreader and an aunt who could complete the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle in a day. Their favorite expression was, “Look it up!” Karen reads punctuation and grammar manuals for fun. Her favorite book is the dictionary.

Karen is an editor and proofreader, blogger, writer, and grandmother. Visit her blog. Connect with Karen on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and Google+.  See her new website at The Word Shark. 

What Risks Are There in Writing?

Risk is not the first thing we think of when we hear the word “writer.”  More likely, the vision of a person safely tucked away in an office somewhere, bent over a typewriter comes to mind.

There are risks within the writing life, though.

Photo Courtesy of digitalart

 “If you are not willing to risk the unusual, you will have to settle for the ordinary.” Jim Rohn

While writing, there may be the temptation to stick with what we know, or not to push past our boundaries of what is comfortable.  When we do so, we end up with the ordinary.  We must write “brave and free.”  We have to continually be on the lookout for the unusual, and sometimes the uncomfortable.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” Anais Nin

We risk exposing our inner selves to the world through our writing, thereby exposing ourselves to rejection.  We know that “it’s not personal,” but sometimes it is difficult to separate the person from the writer.  However, there can be greater pain in not finding our own voices, but in trying to play it safe, hiding our voice, and writing for other people’s approval.

“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” TS Eliot.

We risk our sense of security every time we stretch ourselves and reach for our dreams.  When over seventy-five percent of the nation has stated they dream of being a writer, the odds can look pretty small that any one person will make it far enough to be called a success.

If we don’t stretch ourselves, though, we can never know if we could have been in the small percentage that did make it.  It would always be a question in the back of our minds, an itch we couldn't scrath.

While writing can be very risky to our stability and sense of self-worth, what are the risks of not being a writer?  Which risk do you choose?