jealousy

I have a serious case of jealousy right now. I’m a firm believer that jealousy is my most valuable emotion because it shows me my true north. It shows the way to what I desperately want in the depths of my heart. It shows me who I could be if I just let myself try. If I let myself do it. If I let myself not only believe, but act.

Since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer. It took me several decades to let myself write. It took me more years to take it seriously. And even more to show my work to readers. And the very fact that I have paperbacks on my bookshelf behind me right now that I wrote comforts me.

They are my past, though.

And in the present, I’m in the middle, and for most of last year I was stuck. Now, I feel pregnant with creative possibility, desperately waiting for that ninth month.

For a variety of reasons, I haven’t published a full-length book since last March, although I’ve been writing constantly since then and participated in two anthologies. What I’ve written hasn’t been good enough to see the light of day. It’s a lot of heartbreak to have the stories you want to see soar crash down and burn. I will really like something I wrote, send it to be critiqued, and learn or realize it’s nowhere near publishing. And I feel pushed further and further back from my dreams.

Still, I keep at it every day. I open my laptop or my notebook, and I put down words. I read up on the craft of writing and storytelling, and I study movies and books I like for what works about them. Why I love them so, and what techniques I can use. But I spend as much time as I can muster putting words down in one way or another.

Because if I didn’t, I feel like I’d literally die. I wouldn’t be who I am supposed to be.

Meanwhile I see all these authors publishing new work all the time, and I get so fucking jealous.

I don’t have anything ready to publish. I will. I have faith that I will.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I still get jealous.

Truth is, I wanna be in the game, not standing on the sidelines. I want to be playing, not spectating. I want to connect with readers, and I want to find those who want to read the stories I tell. And I want to blow you away, Dear Reader. I want to knock your socks off.

It’s not that easy for me to finish a book, but looking around it seems like it’s easy for everyone else. Cue: jealousy. Cue: talking back to myself that I need to not be comparing myself and I just need to play my game. Cue: reminding myself I am doing the work now, and it will pay off.

A big part of writing is wanting to put down words and express myself. The other part is being read. And that’s not happening as much as I want it to.

That need to be read is a major reason why I’ve been taking this blog seriously, keeping mostly to my unstated goal of posting every Wednesday and Saturday of 2020. Besides processing my thoughts, it’s giving me the finishing and the publishing that I need.

I crave it. I fear not publishing anything else ever again. I fear not rising to my potential. I fear not being able to connect with that reader who feels better after she reads my words. I fear not becoming who I want to be. Who I intend myself to be. Who I am called to be.

And so I write this blog post acknowledging my massive jealousy because it’s the only way I can play the game right now. With no polished and finished manuscript, I’m in the minor leagues sitting on the bench. I’ve got a dream, but few stats.

Still, I console myself that I wear my uniform to all the games, and sometimes I get to throw a ball around a little bit.

You don’t see me show up to every practice ready to play. You don’t see the time I spend watching tape, correcting my stance, getting coached on how to catch and throw.

I am putting in that time, though. My jealous monster, my North Star is crystal clear: I wanna play.

Put me in, Coach.

But I can’t play right now.

I’m the only Coach who can put me in the game, and I’m not ready yet. I need to finish a book. And another one. And another one. That’s the only way I can curb my monster.

I just have to have patience and faith and belief and trust and all those good things that I can finish the work in progress I’m playing with. And then another. And another.

Then I have to actually do the work. Which I do. Daily.

Deep breaths. I can do this.

I wanted to write this post in case you feel the way I do about something. In case you find yourself desperately jealous of something someone else does that you want to do.

Invite in that jealousy. Let it have a drink with you. Ask it whether it is guiding you to your true heart.

Do you want to slow down and spend more time with your kids? Go out and travel more? Actually get that degree? Do you have another dream?

Then do what you need to do to let yourself have, be, or do what you are jealous of. And know that it might take time.

I’m here cheering for you as you do the work no one sees. And I’m cheering for you when you make it. Because if you can do it, so can I.