UPDATE: Here is me in all my caffeinated awesomeness being featured on BlogHer. Holy manga hair on a Troll doll, this actually happened!
Yesterday, as I was standing in my kitchen watching my husband put away groceries, I decided I'd check my email. Then I definitely couldn't help put anything away because I'd be drinking coffee and checking my smart phone, thus having both arms busy. See? Totally unavailable.
Yesterday, as I was standing in my kitchen watching my husband put away groceries, I decided I'd check my email. Then I definitely couldn't help put anything away because I'd be drinking coffee and checking my smart phone, thus having both arms busy. See? Totally unavailable.
Oh, but the cans go on the middle shelf, dear.
I shouldn't have checked my email just then, and not only because that kind of laziness eventually leads to marriage therapy. I shouldn't have checked because, instead of the normal junk-type mail I get most weekends, I got a big, scary, awesome surprise: an email from BlogHer.
If you don't know what BlogHer is, you either:
a) are not a blogger, or,
b) are a blogger but write posts from beneath your rock, which is buried deep in the Cave of Cluelessness
I took the plunge a couple of weeks ago and submitted a post to the giant publishing network. Why? Because someone suggested I do, and I respect and value other people even when I'm not helping put the groceries away, dear husband. I honestly didn't think it would go anywhere, but knew I'd kick myself if I didn't at least try. I'd be 97 and sitting in my hovering rocking chair - because it's the future and everything hovers, even rocking chairs - and petting my robo-cat, and I'd be wondering why I didn't travel more, or have a torrid affair with a young European, or take my writing more seriously and submit to BlogHer.
And there I was, suddenly staring at an email and yelling "OMIGAWDNOFREAKINGWAY!" while my husband was unceremoniously stuffing cereal boxes into a cupboard full of other nearly-empty-and-definitely-stale cereal boxes. Because, guess what? It's BlogHer calling, and they're featuring me on their homepage on Monday, and here's some badge bling to put on your site to show that, yes, we love your writing and want to share it with people.
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| I know, right? I kind of want this tattooed on my hindquarters |
And the other thing? The post they're featuring isn't the post I submitted. That might very well mean that someone read through my posts and chose the one that is. Like, they actually bothered to do that. For some reason, that's the coolest/scariest part.
Gulp.
I spent the rest of the day doing the following:
1. Telling people in that "I can't believe this is actually happening" kind of way.
2. Wanting to throw up in a bucket.
3. Eating about 7 handfuls of Peanut M&Ms
4. Feeling sheepish when the occasional person was all, "Oh yeah, that happened to me once/twice/seventeen times" like it's not a big deal when I'm thinking it's a totally big deal.
5. Wondering what this will mean for me; will it give me more confidence? Help me take my writing to the next level? Or will it simply provide me with 15 minutes of viral-dom and nothing more because I don't believe enough in myself to go after what I want?
6. Distracting myself from these big questions with a date night watching Prometheus, which was excellent except when the alien was eating someone's face and suddenly a voice would pop into my head saying, "Hey, remember how you're going to be featured on BlogHer on Monday? Nerve-wracking, right? Do you have a bucket handy?" and I'm all, "Shut up, voice! An alien is eating someone's face and you're making me feel nauseated for all the wrong reasons right now."
7. Wondering what the hell I was going to write to impress whoever visits my blog for the first time and wants to get a sense of who I am.
I knew I had to write something, but what? I froze. I felt stuck. And I laughed, because it was so damn ironic: The post being featured is one I wrote in May about - get ready for this - writer's block.
This lead me to two conclusions. First, I had to do what I did last time and write through my block, fear be damned. Second, I had to stop worrying about impressing people and just be The Maven. Why would I even try to be someone else? That's crazy talk. This is my voice as a writer; the only one I'll ever have. It's authentic and, most of the time, flows freely from my head to my fingertips. Also, it's sometimes kinda funny and people like it. So why not get out of my own way and just write?
So I did. And this is the post that came out. Surely my awesomeness will seep through, right? Right. Of course it will.
But, hey, if I bomb there are always more Peanut M&Ms with which to eat my feelings. (I buy them in bulk.)