The Big Fat F Word: Failure and Writing

I've mulled this topic over quite a bit in the last couple of weeks. I usually think about it in my down time, like in the afternoon when all my brain cells are gone and I eat roasted peanuts and stare out the window. I also think a lot about the plot line for Breaking Bad, but that's neither here nor there.



There's really no good way to say this, and truly, I suspect it's something you're never supposed to say. Or, at least, I don't hear any other writers saying it. Maybe they're smarter than me, or have more dignity, or maybe, just maybe, they are more comfortable pretending they're always a success. Or maybe they really are.



I, however, have never been good at pretending. I tell it all on myself. And now, thanks to my very verbal daughter, I have a partner who likes to over-truthfully announce, "MOMMY TOOTED" in Target. But yesterday, as I shoveled handful after handful of peanuts down my gullet, and watched a bird fly smack into my office window, I wondered why this particular topic should this be any different. I also felt really sorry for the bird, but again, neither here nor there.



So here it is.



Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, I feel like I failed a little bit at the whole book thing.



Now. I'm not going to tell the world how much money I made, or how many books I sold. And overall, it was a great experience.  But I will say this. If everyone who read my blog had purchased a copy of the book, I might not be writing this post.



It's been hard, to compare book sales, and the number of visitors to this blog, and not feel like I missed the boat somewhere. It makes me feel a little deflated. Because what I do here, for free, is obviously worth a lot of people's time. The book and this blog don't match up. I don't know the reason for that. I probably never will.



So why say it? Why air it here? Am I trying to make anyone feel guilty?



No. Never. Ever. But, there are lots of us that love writing. There are lots of us who have widely read blogs, published articles, and if we're lucky and we work hard, a published book. And for most people, that is the end of the rainbow, the ultimate fulfillment of the fairy tale. No one tells you what comes after.



No one tells you that you will have to be your own one man PR team (well that's not totally true, my agent did a great job of telling me that). No one tells you that you'll have to promote, and shmooze, and pat yourself on the back. No one tells you how stressful it will be watching the sales numbers every week. No one tells you that sometimes, you'll feel a little bit like a failure even AFTER you've published a book.



But I want to tell you that even if you feel like a failure, it's more normal than you think.



It doesn't last forever.



And it will be O.K.



So here I am, two years later. It's easier to realize that not everyone who reads my blog is willing to buy my book. It's easier to accept that the fairy tale dream in my head just wasn't my reality. It's easier to accept that even though things didn't measure up to what I thought they would be, it was still one of the best experiences of my life and I'm so grateful.



I have finally realized that the F word, failure, is all in my head. It's the measuring stick that I dreamed up, therefore, it's the measuring stick that I alone can break.



So lately, I've been writing and working on projects for myself. I've been concentrating on what I want to do, rather than what I think will sell or impress. It's all I know to do. It's why I really write in the first place.



And yesterday, as I sat in front of my office window, eating peanuts, feeling sorry for the maimed bird who probably said, "Hey, look! There's my cousin. Hi Bill.........." and then plummeted to the ground after colliding with his own reflection, I felt finally ready to tell this on myself. I felt ready to get rid of the F-word and move on with whatever comes next in my writing life.



Because you know what? Something ALWAYS comes next.

New Curtains. Less Hustle.

I hung new curtains in the dining room yesterday and thought to myself, "I'm going to slow down on the blog."



I've been waffling back and forth for at least a year on this topic, and it's been stressful. I worry that if I'm not posting often, five days a week, I'll lose readers. But as I was working in the dining room, hanging curtains with the double doors open in the kitchen, rare 70 degree breezes gusting through the house, I should have been relishing the moment.



It's never fall-like in August, and yet, it was. I never find fabric I like, but I'd fallen in love with burnt coral jersey fabric with tiny white ruffles AND I'd bought it with a 40% off coupon. AND I like it better than the expensive Anthropologie curtains I'd been eyeing (but would have had to sell my harvested eggs to buy).



I should have been in thrifty, decorating, weather loving heaven.



Instead I was thinking, "I better hurry up and take some blog pictures while the morning sun is bright."



That's when I realized it's time for things to change.



There's this unconscious hustle in blog world. There's hustle to keep up great posts. There's hustle to keep up great writing content. There's hustle to decorate, bake, garden, dress well, and photograph all of it. There's hustle to track the number of readers per month. There's just a lot of hustle.



I'm choosing to step out of the hustle. I'll still be here. I'll still be blogging, but life comes first. Blogging comes second. I hope you'll stick around. I hope I don't lose readers. But after doing this five days a week, for almost seven years, it's time to make a change. I think this will be positive. I think this will make me a better blogger, and a better writer. I think it will make me a better mother, wife, and friend.



So in the words of Joe Fox, "I'm still here. Talk to me."

Breaks Are Good. (Way To State The Obvious, Sherlock.)

Whew. Breaks are good. I can't remember the last time I signed off for a week. Matt also enjoyed it, and told me, "It's nice when you don't have your camera poked in my face all the time."



Of course, that was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, so I waited until we had a "big man in a tiny pool" situation and started clicking away.



That'll teach him.



I'm still mulling over my next step in the dining room. I'm thinking black and white family photos? Not very creative, I know, but I want to keep things simple in there.



I made a valance for the kitchen window, cleaned out some drawers, marathoned Breaking Bad like a crazy woman, and visited with my sister. Matt smoked more ribs, I got bit by mosquitoes, the yard got mowed, flowers bloomed, and I watched an inebriated man fall over a trash can and into a parking lot while yelling, "More salsa, Carol! More salsa!" I worked on edits for my latest project, begged friends and family to edit it, and nagged Matt into creating the book cover. I'm pretty excited.



So that's me. How are you? I do so love the emails I've been getting lately. Thank you. All of you. I'm blessed to know so many sweet ladies.



Happy Monday!