Yesterday, I ran into a former co-worker in the post office parking lot. I haven't seen her in about four years and we were never close, so we did the typical superficial three minute chat and then went our separate ways. At one point, she asked me what I was doing these days, and I finally took the plunge. I said, "Well, I took an extended maternity leave, and now I'm trying to be a freelance writer."
And then I fell down dead. Poor me, you will miss me terribly, I am sure.
What's the big deal? Nothing, I suppose, except that I have been pretending that I have been doing this "get paid to write" thing purely as a lark and it was the first time I have admitted to some random person that it isn't a lark, it is something I really want to do. Rather desperately, in fact.
I want, have always wanted, to be an actual writer. And now, thanks to the hard work and tolerance of my husband, that's what I am. It's thrilling, and terrifying. I mean, what if I suck? What if I am a laughingstock and the only reason I haven't been fired is because everyone feels so sorry for me for deluding myself into thinking I can write? What if my ideas about getting other people to hire me to write are crazy and I will have to go back and get a real job instead?
God. Self-esteem issues much?
I swear I am not fishing for compliments, so thanks but no thanks. It was just a strange experience to take this quiet little dream of mine and put it out there in the world. I'm hoping the cool kids don't beat it up.
And speaking of, I'm running a little contest over at the other site today, with prizes and everything for the winners. Check it out if you are interested, or if you just feel sorry for me and want to give me an extra hit so I don't look like I totally suck and get fired. No pressure or anything.