I’ve been a bad blogger lately. I’m still writing a lot…just not for my own blog. One of my goals when I started this blog a year ago was to eventually write for other sites as well. I’m happy that I am branching out however… I miss the blog! I miss you guys!
Here are a few things that I have done in the past 6 weeks:
1. Flown across the country and back, TWICE.
2. Witnessed my cousin get married.
3. Started a new job
4. Read all of Chelsea Handler‘s books (& kinda have fallen in love with Ms. Handler. Hi Chelsea, its me, Simone & I have a cupboard full of vodka. Wanna be friends?)
Somehow amidst all this chaos I have become a writer. I mean I think I’m a writer now.
Do you officially become a writer when someone pays you to write? Or have I always been a writer and now the only difference is that someone is actually paying me to do this? Or maybe the better question should be: why do I still feel awkward calling myself a writer when clearly that is what I do?
A few weeks ago I received my first cheque for some stories I had written. Even with the cheque in my hand, I still had this moment of disbelief where I said “Someone is actually paying me to do this?!” I guess I kind of feel the same way about writing as I do about being an adult. Even though I’m almost thirty, there are times where I still feel like a kid. Its like I am at the fair & I’ve managed to trick the Mullet-wearing-Carnie into letting me on the big kid’s ride even though I clearly do not meet the height requirements. Does this feeling ever go away?
I’ve also realized that I don’t give myself enough credit.
I look at the glass as half-empty instead of half-full. I let negative voices in my head discount things that I have obviously worked hard for (“Yes, I’m doing what I want to be doing but I’m still not making much money“….”The blog is going well…but its still not where I want it to be“…..”Every time I’m filing a document I have to sing the ABCs in my head. What is wrong with me?!“….you get the idea). Its like I’m looking forward so much that I don’t see what is happening in the now. For example -that I am actually doing what I wanted to do a year ago.
I don’t want to ever get in the habit of having good things happen & not taking the time to really appreciate them. Achievements (however small) still need to be celebrated.
Celebrating means getting Ukelele Misfit to take a dorky photo of me posing with my first writing cheque (taken last week in Little Italy after we pigged out on Gelato)
Because this is me we’re talking about- I’ve already squandered my earnings on shoes. Ralph Lauren patent leather platform sandals. (I don’t think I’ve bought anything by Ralph Lauren since the 90’s!) But, these shoes are simple & black & shiny & I fell in love as soon as I saw them.
And, they make me super tall. And, yes – I really am THAT white. And, because I am going to try and ride that “big kid ride” like I actually belong on it, I’ve decided to save the rest of my writing money for something really, really good.
If I save all my writing money, in like… 4-6 years I should be able to buy a pair of pretty red soled shoes. Oh yeah.
Does anyone else have the same problem? How do you celebrate success?