I really enjoy what I do here. I dream. I kvetch. I make known my hopes for the future. And I guess, if you really wanted to, you could say that blogging is a form of being "published." I like that. I get to say what I want, and then sometimes I say something that someone else wants to know about. Very alluring to the Queen of Everything, don't you think?
I would like to hone this hobby, though. Make it mean something bigger. Don't know why. Really, that isn't the point is it - of blogging, that is? Blogging is simply saying what you want in a sort of "out loud" way that is very non-threatening. I don't have to receive rejection letters from someone saying they aren't interested, or that my skill is lacking. I can put it out there, comments or no, and I get to leave it there on the "page".
But we all know I cannot stop there.
I have counseled Girl about her writing. When she was once weeping in her bed about being the "weird girl", she and I had a conversation about dreams and what they might look like when they are first born and what it takes to get them to a grown up state. She was concerned about starting middle school and not being able to shuck the public opinion that she was odd. I tried to tell her being odd was actually a good thing. She simply rolled her eyes at me. Then I explained that I was odd... More eye rolling. But when I also explained that in order to fit in, I gave up some pretty important dreams I had, like writing books, her eyes actually quit bobbing about in her head and fixed on me. When she saw that I chucked my oddness for popularity that I never really found comfort in, she started really listening. (I relished it for a moment, knowing it cannot last...)
I hope that she realized that what I was saying was not that it wasn't difficult to be odd. It is. Horribly so. But it can be invaluable when you have big dreams. It means that you don't give up. It means that you are willing to look a little nutty in front of others in order to see that dream to fruition. It means you are willing to fail. Willing to fail over and over, until you succeed.
I was that weird girl too, my darling. I was that kid who just didn't fit in all the way. I still am. I still struggle to keep my head in the game and not check out when things get really hard to deal with. I squeeze my round-self into all kinds of square holes to make ends meet. That is what growing up teaches you. That is the burden of responsibility. But after all that squishing and squeezing, I also allow myself the ability to dream.
I dream of someday writing something that someone wants to publish into a for-real book. I am not a story teller, per se, but I do have stories to tell. I fear my skills as a wordsmith are terribly lacking. I often find my writing cumbersome and choppy, wandering down paths that are undeniably difficult to follow. I am sure some classes could help that... When I have time... (Would have been so much easier to have honed this dream than try to fit in where I really didn't belong!)
I hope that I can impress on my daughter to follow her dreams all the way to the end. To exhaust her desires until it becomes plain that there is another path she should take. I hope that if, by my blogging, she can see me pursue being the "weird-girl" she will find strength in her uniqueness, not a lack of confidence. That is my largest desire for her. My Girl with the big dreams of being a writer.
I want to be published. (excuse me, while I hit that "Publish Post" button! :) )