this is my confession

hi, my name is elora, and i just pulled an anne lamott. don't be fooled. that opener sounds better than it really is - promise. i haven't been published; knopf hasn't realized the absolute brilliance of my take on sunrises. no, my kinship with lamott is a bit less romantic and a whole lot more realistic.

i find it absolutely impossible to be happy for a few people i know who are gaining recognition for their writing.

yeah. that's right. i said it. and, don't worry. chances are if you are reading this i am NOT talking about you. or maybe i am. doubtful. anyway...

i came to the realization this morning on my drive to work. i called my best friend for the minute purpose to vent about how i just don't understand the reason behind them being published/recognized/gaining readership on their blog and little ol' me being left behind. Nothing more than an occasional spam comment i need to block.

pity party over.

once i hung up the phone, i was instantly chagrined. like..."my hand was in the cookie jar & my mom is staring at my not-s0-hidden method of sneaking" chagrined. enter anne.

in her book, bird by bird, she talks about the danger of comparing yourself to others. it happens often in writer's circles - one person gets published and the rest are left to fend for themselves on their diet of water & stale ramen. you know, the sacrificial artist routine. what lamott urges readers to remember though is that your time will come. or not. but even if it doesn't, to not lose heart. because, (and this is one of my favorite quotes evah)

writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up & grow & belong.

one of my professors once said "we writers are a depressed lot" and i really believe this is true. because we see the world through a muse's lense, we aren't afraid to open the forbidden door or speak of the unmentioned tragedy. we do this because we have an uncanny desire that roots itself deep in our soul to be known. we may be depressed, but we are also incredibly prideful. but, we are the storytellers. and, using our words for good can have an incredible impact on those around us. so...despite the dust collecting on our keyboard because of our minor depression after so-and-so's blog was just picked up by such-and-such company/publisher/celebrity and our statistics look like a texas wilderness, our words still make a difference. sometimes. and maybe to just one person.

which is why i need a swift kick in the shins every once in awhile to remind me that even though my dream is to chunk the day job and write for a living, my time will come...and it may not.

oh and, i AM happy for my friends now. really.

Posted on September 15, 2009 and filed under story.