Rarely a day goes by without someone telling me I should write a book.
They say that they’d love to read it, that it would be hilarious, and ask me why I haven’t done it yet. They compare me to Carrie Bradshaw (aka, Candace Bushnell), which I take as a huge compliment if only that they think I have the funds to wear Manolos. (Which we all know isn’t true…) It’s flattering, really. Coworkers, friends, and family alike seem to be fixated on this question as of late, and I’ve begun to listen.
Why haven’t I written a book yet?
Oh, where to begin… I could state lack of time, which is completely true but not necessarily the real (or whole) reason. I could state lack of topics, which again, has some validity but is not truly preventing me from writing. In honesty, I’m basically petrified. By formally announcing, even to myself, that I am beginning this endeavor, it places loads of stress on my already-stressed-out self, and – let’s be honest, I don’t think I can deal with any failure right now in my precarious state.
What if I fail in living my dream? Where does that leave me?
Oh, I’ve started a book…in my head, on my computer, in my journal, many times. I’m practically overflowing with ideas, and yet haven’t really lassoed them into something tangible. I notice little intracacies of life, the hidden meanings behind actions, the beautiful mundaneness of it all. And I think “that would be a great [trait/character/statement/location/outfit/name] for my book.” I record it mentally, and move on. It’s the ‘moving on’ that needs to stop. One of these days I’m just going to have to do it.
Why not today? Why not tomorrow? Again, I’m nearly paralyzed with fear, afraid to see what comes out when I put my mind to it. All writers want their work to be unique, reputable, inspiring – in essence, theirs. We craft our words meticulously to portray an exact thought, feeling or action, and then sit back and wait. Like letting a child go to college, we toil and shape and work and revise and finally, upon releasing it, sit back and hope we’ve done enough. Hope it’s good enough. Hope we didn’t screw it up.
I’ve heard lately of other Bloggers getting approached by agents, and I’m elated for them. How exciting! And yet a little pang of disappointment arises in my stomach, not too different than that pang you get when you find out your ex is dating someone else – that little twang that makes you feel guilty for even thinking or feeling it and yet you can’t avoid it. It’s the green-eyed monster, and as much as you may adore the person and delight in their happiness, there’s a part of you saying “Why isn’t that me?”
I’m not the type to sit back and let things happen. (Though I wouldn’t mind it if the perfect guy fell into my lap someday soon, but I digress…) I seek my opportunities, look for my chances to excel, and work hard at what I do. I would never solely rely on this website, for example, to launch my writing career. If it happened that way – wonderful. But I’m not depending on it. I know it’s essentially up to me.
And still I put it off, still I spend my evenings and weekends doing other things, other distractions that are allowing me great material for my writing, but not actually promoting my writing itself. “There’s always tomorrow,” I rationalize, as I go to the gym or knit a scarf or watch the OC or drink a pitcher of Foster’s or clean my room. Folly, I know it.
One of these days, they’ll be no more excuses. I think I won’t have any other option but TO write a manuscript, a book, a story of some substance. I’ll be obligated by my own desires, by the words that I’ve been keeping in all this time, waiting for the right moment to release them to the world.
But until that day comes, you’ve got this website, you’ve got me, and I’ve got to get over my fear.
One day soon, I promise.
AubreySabala.com 
I hope it’s one day soon…your really amazing and I think your writing is very similar to Candace Bushnell…..I just finished reading Sex and the City and it reminded me a lot of your stories about your weekend excurions and such..
That’s a great idea. I’m a daily reader and enjoy everything that you produce. However, I would quickly distance from the Carrie Bradshaw theme, as that trend is coming to a close. Sorta of like those stupid retro trucker hats.
If you dig deep enough, some genuine, super-original, and high-quality material will surface. So quit putting it off and just do it.
You already have enough posts to fill a book.
We spoke only 2 or 3x’s via shesheme and I was surfing the web this afternoon (avoiding work) and found your web site. I read this entry and the previous one and you have a great abiltiy to draw a reader in … go after your dream.
oops…..i meant to give props to pink floyd…..but my cat seems to looove walking on my keyboard 🙂 and it deleted the T from my name too.
many many pages of potential material has graced the pages of many of my journals & writing notebooks. i surely can relate to you.
one of these days you just have to sit yourself down & focus & put it all together 🙂 i’m sure it’ll you’ll be a hit!
okay, so i didn’t realize i was previewing & ended up posting another one when the first one didn’t even post 🙂 so, what i originally quoted by pink floyd…”and then one day you find ten years have got behind you….”
i think there are two types of people in the world. those who write and those who are paralyzed with fear if they even have to come up with one original sentence to put in a thank-you card. that latter group thinks that if you show some prowise in your writing that you should write a book, not realizing that the pressure to write an etire book is far more cumbersome than the pressure to write a witty tag-line for a company-wide email.
it’s just not that simple.
now, i do agree with you that you should probably not tell anyone if you’re starting to do it because possible failure or if you suffer from pooping-out-on-the-bookitis, then you’ll at least suffer alone. that’s like announcing that you’re trying to have a baby and then 2 years later when you’re still childless your friends are looking at you like, ‘do you need some tips?’
For fuck’s sake, fuck failure. Wear it so often and it becomes a part of you. Then one day, when you least expect it, you walk into someone’s house and they’re like, “Shit, why the fuck you wearing that ugly ass failure coat? Why don’t you try THIS one on.” Sexy, yes? Then you ogle yourself in the mirror. Damn, you fine.
But seriosuly–fail and fail again. Cliched, but so freakin’ necessary. For fuck’s sake, I used to write porn. And for a baby magazine. And now I copyedit celebrity’s vapid quotes.
You don’t need no book to validate yerself. Hell, you’re gonna be published, ain’t ya?