Despite being happily married, I haven’t broken my habit of reading the wedding announcements in the Sunday Styles section of the New York Times.
But now, instead of just being interested in how the happy loving couples met, I’m curious about their education and the jobs that they have.
Like the couple who met their senior year at Stanford’s business school. She works for an energy management software company. Her new husband is an investment analyst. Nice work.
Or the pair of attorneys who met while they were in law school. Both graduated with honors. And now they’re practicing law with different firms in San Francisco and they’re going to live happily ever after.
And the doctors. There are so many of them in these pages. They’re set. They’re doctors. One’s a gynecologist while the other is a neurosurgeon. I can just see them in their beautiful loft apartment in the West Village. They used to work at St. Vincent’s but it’s been shut down so now they have to commute to the Upper East Side. But they do it together.
In approximately 300 words or less, their lives all seem so uncluttered and simple. Their marriages. Their financial statuses. And especially, their career choices.
Sometimes I think, oh, if I had just decided to become a social worker. Gotten a Ph.D. in cognitive psychology. Or become an attorney. Or even a doctor. I don’t faint at the sight of blood.
Those career choices are so black and white. I would never have had to worry about what I would do for a living. My own choices wouldn’t have been so ambiguous.
A degree in economics and history? A spot in the executive training program at Bloomingdales, with subsequent promotions to the buying office.
An MBA in management? A series of temp jobs followed by a permanent position at Crain’s New York as the Research Editor. (I loved that job but it ended when we made the move down to Florida.)
After I got divorced, the voice inside my head, the one that had been telling me that I wanted to be a writer for over 10 years, got louder. Sure, I had been writing in little dribs and drabs, hiding my work away. Not telling anybody.
It took a few more years before I actually succumbed to the voice and started this blog as a way to start writing in a more structured way.
Now, I’m pushing 47. And finally, I’m getting closer to what it is I’m meant to do.
But is it ever too late?
People ask me what I do. For a living. Other than my domestic responsibilities: raising a couple of kids, keeping the household running smoothly, being a trophy wife.
I tell them that I’m a bookkeeper. That’s how I earn a small living. Working part-time. I enjoy it.
And depending on who’s asking, I’ll also tell them that I’m a writer. But sometimes I feel so wishy washy saying that. Because I don’t earn any money from it. Which makes it seem like more of a vanity project. (I did get paid to write about love and sex for a web site for about a year. But, after a while, the subject matter got a little too confining.)
Writing without publication makes me feel like a phoney.
But writing is what I was meant to do.
I wake up thinking about what to write. I live my life picking out pieces of my day and imagining them on the page.
Stories are always coursing through my brain.
I can’t stop it.
So I’ll keep practicing my craft. I will write every day.
I’ll try not to get frustrated that my blog’s page views don’t break a certain level.
I’ll try not to be bummed out that I didn’t hear back from that publication that I submitted a few posts too.
And I’ll try not to compare myself to other writers. (Sometimes, I don’t read the book review section of the Times because it depresses me. Pathetic, right?)
I have to believe in myself.
That’s the hardest thing.
That’s what writers do.
And I am a writer.
16 comments
Jennie says:
Oct 22, 2012
Hello! I’m here from TPOW and I’m so glad you linked to this in today’s comments. I, too, struggle with whether or not to call myself a writer. I work in HR (SNOOZE) but love writing and have been writing and making up stories since I was a child. So you’ve inspired me to say I’m a writer, too!
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 22, 2012
Hi Jennie. Happy to meet you! Let’s make a pact. We are going to admit to everyone that we are writers! And for the record… Bookkeeping vs HR? Not sure which is more snooze-worthy!
Cheryl Delaney says:
Oct 22, 2012
Oh, you self-promotional weenie, you! Kidding, kidding 🙂 I love this. I totally relate to the need for external signs of legitimacy. If you don’t have a certificate from the Board of Writerly Writing On High, how can you claim to be a writer? And where can I obtain such a certificate? Because I really want one and one of the weirdest things about middle-adulthood is the realization that being aware of a thought habit that is undermining you does not lead swiftly and directly to making it go away. I sometimes feel so impatient with the baby steps and the progress that’s so slow it’s imperceptible. Anyway, nicely put – thanks for posting this!
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 22, 2012
Ha! Thanks Cheryl. Happy to know that I am not alone. Not with the weenie part but with the whole external signs of legitimacy. (I like the way you put that btw.)
Hotly Spiced says:
Oct 22, 2012
It’s so difficult saying you’re a writer because people then practically jump to, ‘What have you written that’s been on the NY Times best-seller’s list?’ And then you find yourself back-tracking. I’m a copy-writer but some people don’t view that as being a proper writer. I believe you’re a writer – you’re very witty and entertaining and you can engage your audience and keep them reading right through to the end of your posts. If you travel around a lot of blogs you’ll find you’re one of a few with that gift. Keep going and you’ll find your audience (or it will find you!) xx
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 22, 2012
Have I told you that I love you?
Mariya says:
Oct 22, 2012
Avoid the NYT wedding column! Nothing good comes of reading it! My friend and I were just lamenting a puffed-up piece in there the other day about a boy who used to send her love notes and is now the leader of a small island nation (That last part is made up, but he and his wife are super-successful).
I too struggle with the whole “being a writer” thing. I haven’t even told most people that I’m taking TPOW because I don’t want them to expect great things. Pathetic, I know.
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 22, 2012
Thanks Mariya! I haven’t shared the TPOW thing with many either. I kind of like belonging to a secret society.
Caitlin says:
Oct 22, 2012
I remember the day in my last career as a singer when I decided to tell people I was a singer. You’d think that kind of career would be hard to hide, but admitting it to myself and saying out loud that it was what I did instead of downplaying it as a hobby was incredibly liberating and empowering. I haven’t done that yet with writing; I don’t know if I ever will. But I hope you enjoy your power surge from admitting it! That’s fantastic!
(I’m with you in TPOW too)
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 23, 2012
Hi TPOW classmate! I wish I could sing. Then my kids wouldn’t tell me to be quiet when I try to sing along with the radio in the car. I wonder what you’re doing now? Thanks for the comment. The thing about writing something and posting it on the Internet? I can’t ever take it back. That’s a teeny bit scary. See you in class!
lesliesholly says:
Oct 23, 2012
I definitely relate to this one! Someone at church the other day referred to me as a writer and I heard my self saying something like, well, except I’m not published blah blah. My son needed to put down an occupation for me on a college application and I told him to say legal assistant (because my husband is a lawyer and we work from home so that’s my unpaid more or less full-time gig) but I don’t FEEL like a legal assistant. I feel more like a writer than anything else because, like you, that is how I relate to the world–always writing blog posts in my head (even though so few make it to the page).
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 23, 2012
So happy to know that I’m not alone! Thanks Leslie. (I think we all need to start saying we’re writers. We are. We write. Even if it’s for ourselves!)
holly c says:
Oct 23, 2012
Hi Jen- Another TPOW classmate here! Just wanted to say that I enjoyed this piece very much, and I have never introduced myself to anyone as a writer. When I was working I used to say what I did for a living. Now that I’m home with kids I mention that, which can have it’s own drawbacks. But at least no asks me if I’ve been published. Honestly, only like two people in my life even know that I have a blog. And I also often find myself thinking about my day in terms of how it would look in writing. Thanks again!
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 23, 2012
Thanks Holly. I’m loving meeting my TPOW buddies. I think you should publish the URL of your blog and let us read it!! If you want to. The first 6 months or so that I wrote this one, only my husband and a friend knew about it. Took me a while to get up the nerve to be open about it.
That Uncomfortable Itch says:
Oct 29, 2012
It’s sometimes hard to read some of the more successful sites and wonder why you -but by you I really mean me- aren’t them. Until quite recently I would get all in a bind and super anxious over it. But one day I decided to enjoy their words for what they were and it’s been much easier. Also, there is some sort of concept about promotion in all of that and I can never quite get my stuff together to promote. So there is that.
You can say out loud that you’re a writer. That’s huge.
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Oct 29, 2012
I can definitely relate to that sentiment.
And the marketing part of it is huge. And time-consuming.
You ARE a writer!