Where Do I Go From Here?

I'm hoping that this "blogging" thing isn't a case of "Don't want something so bad that you just might get it."  For so long I've wanted an avenue for my writing:  a place that I could write what I wanted and share with whom I wanted.  I felt there might be people who would be eager to read what I had to say, mostly because they know and love me, and partly because what I have to say just might be a little bit interesting!  In my heart I hoped it was more of the latter and less of the former.  Afterall, if you are to call yourself a writer you had better believe that your writing is good.  And since my own opinion of my writing is second to that of those who read it, what I write SHOULD be entertaining, informative, thought-provoking, exciting, whimsical, sad, maddening, or any combination of the above.  That's how others should view it.  How I view it really doesn't matter.  If I'm a good writer, then hopefully they are one in the same.  My intent should be their (your) result.

So now I'm faced with the biggest challenge of all.  I thought that actually getting here was a struggle and a big step, but I realized on Friday (one of my "scheduled" writing days) that I had no idea what to write next!  What if I don't have anything thought-provoking to write about?  What if my soap-box is turned over and filled with junk, instead of available as a platform to raise me up for review?  What do I do if I don't feel whimsical or whitty on my writing days - or any other day?  If I don't entertain or inform then have I jumped the gun and wasted my time and your time?  Where do I go from here?

I suppose that I do what I'm doing now.  You plow through the writer's block.  You just sit down and start writing.  About 2 years ago I decided to try SOMETHING.  I committed to entering a creative writing contest in a woman's magazine.  The suggestions from some of the judges for struggling writers included having a writing day or days and specific writing times.  One woman stressed that if you don't commit to your writing the way that you commit to the other things in your life then you will always put it aside.  If you don't habitually cancel your doctor or hair appointments, then don't cancel your writing appointments with yourself.  And the best piece of advice was to just sit down and write ANYTHING.  "You can't edit a blank page," one judge said.

I did not keep my commitment to myself on Friday because parenting got in the way, not the writer's block.  I justify that by acknowledging that I will always put aside my needs for those of my children, especially when one of them is sick.  Now if only that "sick" child that needed to get picked up from school 3 minutes after I had walked in the door from just dropping off another child at that same school was actually SICK, well then I could follow-through on justification.  Unfortunately, my "sick" child was not so sick.  Lesson learned.  Child reprimanded.  Smarter parent next time around for the nurse's phone-call.

So this may not be Pulitzer-worthy, but at least it's writing.  It's something I can edit.  It's something I can say that I accomplished today.  And I can honestly say that it's no worse than what a lot of other people are writing about.  One of the columns in the local paper that I like to read was bland and boring last week.  It was so bad that I didn't even finish reading it.  I remember feeling disappointed and let-down that he couldn't come up with a topic to write about that would hold my interest.  In fact, the article was exactly about the fact that he felt he had nothing to write about that week!  A new year, holidays over, spring in New England too far off and he had nothing to write about!  And he gets paid!  So, I ask myself:  if he can just write about nothing, then why can't I?  Although his readership is much larger than mine, there might be people out there like me who refused to finish reading what he (didn't) have to say, but next week we will all open the paper and try again.  I can only hope that my small "following" won't give up on me so easily, and will return frequently to read some more.  I hope that I don't disappoint or bore you.  But as long as there is SOMEHTHING for you to read, then at least I did my job:  I didn't continue to procrastinate or re-priorititize.  I made a commitment, I stuck to it, and I wrote something.  Bland or exciting at least there is a piece of writing that has my name on it.

I am actually more hopeful for the next time I sit in this chair.  I hope that there are ideas and thoughts that MUST get written.  I hope there is satisfaction in clicking the "PUBLISH POST" button.  I hope that Jazz will stop barking at me and jumping on my chair while I type.  Maybe 2 out of 3 ain't bad.

BTW - I didn't win the writing contest.  But it felt great to commit to writing, force myself to find the time to do the writing, and mail my submission at the post office.  It was awesome!  I look forward to getting myself to a place where that is a more regular experience for me.

I'm Here!

It will probably seem absolutely ridiculous to nearly everyone who reads this, that at this very moment I am a little queasy, on the verge of tears, pittin' out, and holding back a smile, all at the same time.  But for those of you reading this, and there are for now only a select few, you all know me well enough to know that this is a small step for mankind and one GIANT LEAP for "Ootch" Heather Vaughan (Porter) Adamson:  this is my first post/blog/attempt at writing for the "world" EVER!  And it feels great!

Now, like Amy Dunn, who felt that without informing people that she was running a marathon, she might back out, I send this to you so you will know that I have finally taken a step towards "really" writing something.  I hope you all know that I value your opinions greatly and although I may need constructive criticism, please be gentle with me, for I am still new at this, and at 41 years of age I can't guarantee that I'll rebound from whatever stings!  In other words:  I want to share with you all but will need time to get this thing right and actually feel like it works for me.  I have no idea where this will take me, and I PRAY that it is not like e-mail in my life:  fleeting, difficult to access and maintain, a nuisance, and better left for others to enjoy.  I want to find a way to say - and share - what is in my head and hand.  Like my special box from Amy (you again?!) says:  "The writer must write what he has to say.  Not speak it."  -Ernest Hemmingway

So this post (is that what it's called?!) is fairly boring to you, I'm sure, but speaks volumes for me.  I'm no longer on the verge of tears or queasy, but I'm still sweating.  I know you don't need that visual, but it's in my head!  I am excited about figuring this whole thing out and having a place to write my thoughts, other than in my "Writing" journal.  Most of what I write is somehow incomplete - a beginning, a middle, or an end, of something larger, but those larger pieces never seem to get completed.  I am not a poet, or a short story writer.  I feel in me there is a novelist that just needs the time and place (space?) to get it all down.  Those days may or may never come, so for now there is this:   What I Know.  What I know about life as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, grandmother, aunt, cousin...41 year old multi-cultural woman.  I can only write what I know.

Ed and I had a brief, yet interesting, conversation on New Year's morning.  I believe that we both feel somewhat unsatisfied with what life has given us.  When we take the time to look around, we are thankful and know that we are blessed, but somehow a sense of satisfaction with what we have achieved seems to be missing.  We are starting the year wondering what we achieved last year, and how this year will be different.  Maybe that's the whole "New Year's Resolution" bug creeping in and trying to attach itself.  Maybe I'm sitting here right now because we are less than one week into 2011 and I feel like there is still time to jump on board and resolve to DO something.  When we moved back from Florida in December of 2004, I swore to myself that I would have a completed piece of writing by the time I was 40.  That gave me 4 1/2 years to do something.  Although there are random pieces of writing in a journal, on scraps of paper and on my external hard drive, there is nothing finished.  Nothing completed.  And I'm now 41 1/2.

It is time to DO something.  (Maybe those Nickelodean commercials are getting to me!)

I may never write the great American novel, but this is What I Know :  In 2011 I can at least say that I made a step.  I'm taking a chance.  I'm trying something.

I'm hopeful.