Happy Halloween, hookers.
Two completely unrelated things for you on this fine Pagan – or Celtic – holiday, depending on your belief.
First, this giraffe shit on Facebook is not cute or funny. SPOILER ALERT:
Don’t get it? Good. I like you already.
Second, and this is so unfuckingbelievable I almost can’t stand to say it:
I let someone else define me.
Years of ranting atop my soapbox about being who you are, discarding the naysayers and believing in YOURSELF, and I fell into the trap of listening to someone else.
It happened so innocently too. But doesn’t it always?
I was moseying along, doing my editing and coaching thing, when BAM. A dear friend said, ‘Hey, you’re not writing anymore. You’re not a writer.’ Of course, I paraphrase. She was much kinder than that. Regardless, it sent me into a tailspin.
Because I have precious few close friends, and even fewer whose opinions about my work actually matter.
Anyway, those two little sentences made me rethink everything. For far longer than they should have.
Is she right? Am I not a writer? Should I hang up my pen? Does my journalism career count for nothing? What about the three books I published – including the #1 bestseller?
I am not writing a new book at this moment. Does that mean I’m a sham? Should I remove the “author” part of my title from my website and social media? Am I being disingenuous to my clients? To myself?
And on and on…
Until Monday, when I posed the question to followers on my Facebook page. One person in particular engaged in a lengthy chat about it. The result was this:
“You’re taking a poll because of her? Take a look at the answers. Sure, she’s a friend, perhaps a good one, but she’s wrong. And on some deep level, I think you knew she was wrong. Don’t… Ever… Let… Anyone… Define … You.”
And that was that.
So yeah, I’m not writing currently. And if that means I’m not a writer, I’m okay with it. I will always have light bulb moments and thoughts that carry me to my ever-present notebook. I will always have pages upon pages of crap to undoubtedly spin into stories and eventually more books.
Just not right now.
Because NOW, I’m enjoying the hell out of editing and coaching YOU. I’m jazzed about playing with other people’s words and helping them make shit shine. I fucking love my job. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
Also, if I’m not a writer, I am totally a witch – and I proudly wear the costume to prove it.
But tell me: What are some beliefs from others in your life that you’ve bought into? Share in the comments.