Three years ago, I found myself progressively applying for graduate school, getting divorced, and in a “worst case scenario come true” twist, unexpectedly laid off. The ex and I are still friends, I’ve graduated with my Master’s, and I pulled through financially thanks to unemployment benies+school loans.
During those three years I also wrote my short book about being an adult orphan and subsequent grief issues (“Grieving Futures”), scrabbled my way through intensive therapy sessions every week, found some precious new friends and reconnected with people I thought I had lost, went paleo, and started a writing career. I launched a couple of blogs too. It all feels haphazard but they are accomplishments nonetheless, and I’m proud of all of this.
Last year was a bit of an “involuntary reprieve” in that I graduated and dealt with a lot of physical issues, namely illnesses and physical injury. I’ve recovered from that, but it has taken me months of telling myself “2012 is over” to fully come to grips with the fact that I need to move forward with the next stage.
Back in December, as 2012 finally ended and I had nearly two weeks off from work (unpaid, woe!), I sat down to look seriously at my job hunting efforts, my personal desires, my professional goals, and my dreams for the future. Recalibration was called for. Dangerous but necessary decisions were made.
And then I sat on all of that, caught in a limbo of uncertainty, self-doubt, and confusion. I am by nature risk-averse and it’s all I can do sometimes to step outside of the house. 😛
One thing I constantly trip over is the fear of being judged. Recently I read the following article from the KillZone site for authors, “How to Make Money Publishing Fiction.” Most of it is common sense but the example they used of a prolific, successful writer was the creator of Perry Mason, Erle Stanley Gardner. He’s famous and well loved and he made a lot of money writing Perry Mason stories, but I don’t think anyone will remember him for literary greatness.
It made me think of my early writing heroes, such as Marion Zimmer Bradley, Anne McCaffrey, and James White. While I love Ursula K. LeGuin, and Octavia Butler, and Doris Lessing, and JRR Tolkien, I’m not talented enough to keep that rarefied company but more importantly I never aspired to be. Early on in the mid 1990s, on USEnet, in the alt.writers group, I once said that “I just want to be a successful genre hack author” and that’s the honest, bare-bones truth. But I get sidetracked by the demons in my head telling me I’m not a “real” author if I just write fun stories without deep literary merit. Yes, that voice sounds suspiciously like my Mother’s, but it’s definitely been internalized to the point that it makes no difference because it is still powerful.
(Likewise, I don’t think I’m allowed to be successful while I’m still overweight. I know, that’s ridiculous, but there you go. Moving on…)
For a few months I was in an introspective funk; I made poor eating choices and I spent far too much time surfing the net instead of writing, drawing, or dancing. I was frustrated by my financial situation and my jobs and my attitude.
What I’ve realized is that it is time to engage the next stage. I’ve moved through my goals of three years ago, and now I have to commit to my NEW best goals instead of spreading myself too thin and getting overwhelmed by everything I’m not doing.
Part of that started a few days ago with my “Coming Out” post, talking about the value and enjoyment I get out of my hobby of fanfiction writing. I’ve also mentioned my intentions of posting my original work on Wattpad and AO3 as the starting point for building an online author brand. I need to credit Jeff Vandermeer, who barely knows me and whose work is leagues above anything I’ll ever write in my whole life, for writing Booklife. His wife Ann is a friend (whom I don’t see often enough!) who gifted me a copy when I was feeling very sick and depressed last year (2012, remember? ugh). The practical, pragmatic advice about writing and the writing life in that book really gave me the impetus for thinking, “hey maybe I can do this; maybe it’s time to take this seriously.”
So that’s what I’m doing. Hell or high water, bad reviews or good, I’m pushing forward with this “writing life” on my own terms. I’m throwing out the script of what and who KimBoo is supposed to be. I’m pretty terrified I’ll fail, but I’m so tired of living a life filled with regrets that my fears pale in comparison.
