Write Vulnerably...Put it out there, cross my fingers, and hope for the best

I've been thinking a lot about this post and where to start. In fact, I've written and deleted more words than I can count on this post alone--don't even ask how many hundreds of PAGES I've discarded over the last few years! I want to share my writing journey with you (whoever you are) but doubt creeps in. Does anyone care? Where do I begin? If I'm just beginning, do I really have anything to share. Then I realized something. This post isn't for you as much as it is for me...

What does it mean to write vulnerably? Writing for the public eye is terrifying. Vulnerability isn't my strong suit. Many people close to me may not believe that I would be afraid of the judgment in putting something, anything, out into the world--I'm not exactly one to hold anything back. But no matter what, we all have that one thing that reminds us to be humble. To be open and accepting of opinions (all of them...) outside of our comfort zones.

My one thing? Writing.

Just Do It...

It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized I took a GIANT leap years ago when I decided to tackle a novel-length piece. Before then, I primarily wrote short stories, poetry, and the occasional non-fiction rambling. I only briefly considered submitting pieces for publication but never followed through, instead settling for the deep breath I could take once something was out of my head and on the page. I'd share with my husband who happily listened then walk away until the next nagging idea begged to be released.

In the summer of '21, we traveled South. Spent a week with the kids in our camper, splitting our time between New Orleans and Carrabelle, Florida. We hit the road and almost immediately, the nagging returned. Only this time it wasn't a story idea.

I started remembering what it felt like the very first time I shared my writing with someone other than family. It was right after I'd switched my major at the U of I to Creative Writing. I wasn't sure how I compared and the entire process was nerve-racking but it wasn't fear--it was excitement. Like when lightning first strikes and the hair on your arms stands on end. The energy in the room, all of our vulnerabilities pooling together, was electric. That feeling started to come back. I can't tell you why because I don't know. And the truth was, it didn't matter why the feeling returned.

What mattered was that I didn't want it to ever go away again.

So, then what?

When we returned home a few days later, I met a family friend for coffee. She'd recently published her first novel and I couldn't wait to pick her brain. No matter how much I'd written before, in college and on my own over the years, I had absolutely no idea where to start. Our writing styles are vastly different, but that wasn't the point in meeting. I walked away vindicated.

I wasn't asking for the impossible.

I dove in never thinking twice about tackling a project that was exponentially larger than anything I'd ever written before. I started outlining. Researching. Taking notes. Watching videos. I bought notecards and post-its and dry erase markers and notebooks. I worked as often as I could to get it all out of my head. Then I started drafting what is now my first complete manuscript. I have big dreams for her and have no doubt she will someday see the public eye--but the work is far from over.

It all felt 'Pie in the Sky'...until it didn't

In the beginning, I told very few people my dream. Don't get me wrong, I knew my family would be supportive. But every time the words were on the tip of my tongue, I felt like a five year old confessing her dream of being a fairy princess when she grows up. Negative voices echoed in my skull, convincing me to stay quiet.

Then one day, I told them. I confessed to spending every ounce of extra time on something that might never see the light of day. That I was pouring myself into a career and silently building the future I'd dreamed of for years--decades, actually.

That moment was when I felt most vulnerable.

That was years ago and while I think they're still settling into the idea, their support has never faltered.

All in all, write vulnerably...

I won't say I have it all figured out because I don't. But that gives me energy. It's exciting to not know while simultaneously looking forward to the messy, depressing, emotional, physical, stressful work of learning. Like I said before, I've discarded HUNDREDS of pages. Several entire drafts were scrapped. Characters erased several drafts deep. Key plot points changed... But I don't have a single regret. Every draft, every page, every word was worth it even if it did end up in the trash.

So, here's to my journey--to every mile behind me and every mile ahead.