The 21st Century SAHM

Aaah, the struggling writer… a mystical character I read about in novels and history books, up until 4 years ago. When I became one. Thankfully I am not trying to feed my family with this writing career (because man would they be hungry); rather, it is truly something I do because I love it. But that doesn’t make facing failure and rejection easy. And that doesn’t mean I don’t want to succeed — to make it “big.”

I started blogging 4 years ago after telling a tale on Facebook about a grocery store adventure with my then 2-year old and newborn. You know the story: 2-year old boogering everywhere… baby pooping through her clothes (twice)… etc. Well a few FB friends responded, “This is hilarious! You should totally start a blog.”

Um… ok! I will! But WTF is a blog?

But yes, I did, at that point, create my first (free) blog on which I began telling parenting stories. And my loyal 11 followers LOVED them. And that is how I rolled for a while. But I kept getting the itch to do more. I started pitching to magazines and websites and got picked up a couple of times! What? Was this really happening?

2014 ended, and I made a pledge to myself: Make it happen in 2015. Learn this shit. Buy your own domain and self-host. Network. Promote. Do this.

So I did. I am. But am I?

As of last night, I am 10 followers away from 200 “likes” on my Facebook page. In one breath, I thought , “Wow! I am so proud and have come so far. I only started this a few months ago.” Followed immediately by, “Ha! 200?! That’s what we are celebrating?” As I see the big-wig bloggers, whom I aspire to be, have thousands. But they started somewhere too, right? Were they ever just like me? Did they ever feel like a struggling actor, desperate to get the casting call, the big break?

It is scary to make goals and state them out loud, particularly when one has as a crippling fear of failure (as does yours truly). But I have also learned that I CAN stomach rejection and have now faced it A LOT in the past few years of becoming a “writer.” And it has not killed me, so that’s good. Because I got butts to wipe and laundry to fold.

So here’s me facing a fear: stating a goal, and knowing I may not reach it. I was an English major in college, studied in England for my entire junior year, and taught high school English for 7 years before joining the SAHM world. Obviously, I love books. Like real books, with pages that turn. My goal — my ultimate dream — is to see my name, in a book, on a shelf, at a store or library. I already see my name in print in our local parenting magazine, for which I am a monthly contributor. And damn, does it feel good to see one of my articles featured on the front page of KC Parent when I drag my little monsters to the pediatrician. I want to broadcast to our doctor, “See that? That’s me! I am a writer!” while she is sticking things in my kid’s ears and nose. But I don’t. At least not out loud.

But a book? That would be it: Success.

I may not get there. I may end this journey with 209 Facebook followers and hit the end of the road. I don’t know. But if I don’t try to move forward, then I really am just standing still. And that is a whole different kind of failure that I cannot stomach.

 

image credit: pixabay.com