Monday, September 13, 2010

To Write or What to Write?

Why is it that we have less confidence in our own capabilities than those who know us the best?

Why do we think that we aren’t good enough for….?

My parents, and my husband, who are completely and totally biased, think that I could write a book. Based on the posts made on this blog. I have 4 whole readers. I wouldn’t hold my breath.

I think that they are a few French fries short of a happy meal.

But then again….why can’t I?

Why is it that I don’t have the faith in myself to do it? I sure didn’t have any problem starting this blog, and then making these posts, whom my husband and mother swear makes them cry. I have never been able to write. Or have I?

I have complete confidence in a kitchen, in my abilities to do my job, in taking care of a baby, in performing CPR. Wait, I feel confident enough that I can save someone’s life, but not write a book. That’s messed up. Yet, completely accurate.

And thanks to them, and their confidence, I have had issues with writing posts. I start to write one, and decide that it sounds stupid and close it, and find something else to do to take my mind off of it. These posts are sometimes hard to write and I have amazingly been able to put my heart into them, without much trouble. They are personal, they are a look inside, my often, very sarcastic head. That alone is enough to terrify most people, and what would I write about. I don’t have the patience to write a novel. The laying it all out, the murder (yeah, there would be murders), the trying to point you to the incorrect guilty party, then the climax where the guilty party is revealed and the hero or heroine steps in and saves the day. Yeah, most days, I would have them dead within a few pages.

So how about romance? Boy meets girl, boy screws up, girl dumps boy. Girl pines for boy. Boy realizes what a shmuck he is and begs for forgiveness, girl grants. They fall in love, plan a beautiful wedding; groom gets killed on honeymoon, ooh on a cruise. See, I have a dead body problem. Once again, could have it done in about 10 pages.

Short stories, no they want like 2-3 pages, takes longer than that to kill them off. I need at least 5 before I can churn out a body.

Self help? On what? “How to kill them with sarcasm!” “101 ways sarcasm can work for you” Yeah, I don’t see a best seller there either.

Cooking? I could do cooking. But most of the recipes I use have came from magazines and the Internet, and my grandmother, and my mother, and I’ve made some others up. I can see it now…. Abby’s Fantabulous Food Finds. Inside are the most decadent, plagiarized recipes you will ever find. Can we say do not pass go, do not collect $200? Go straight to jail. Pretty sure they won’t let me make risotto there or cross-stitch, so that’s out.

What does that leave? True stories. I could right an autobiography. It can sit on a shelf and collect dust, like the rest of those books. You know, the ones hidden in the back corner that you only read for that S place. Yep, I would be hidden in the back, probably on the bottom, shelf, just to insult my height, cause it sure wouldn’t be to insult my weight, other wise I would be….nevermind.

It’s a beautiful thought. It really is, but what would I say? Some days I have a hard time churning out stuff for this, let alone a book. It goes back to that whole confidence thing, I get to thinking I can’t write, so I don’t. Except papers on financial trends, apparently I’m good at that.

Write a book?!?! Um…no, I think I’ll stick with the blog instead. At least for now.

~ Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent. ~Eleanor Roosevelt

~It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else's eyes. ~Sally Field

~ It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you're not. ~Author Unknown

~ We have to learn to be our own best friends because we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies. ~Roderick Thorp

~ If you hear a voice within you say "you cannot paint," then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced. ~Vincent Van Gogh

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