Take it to the page, said my mentor years ago.
I try. I do. But I have two responses to stress and/or anxiety:
1) Turtle
2) Blathering idiot. (That's a blithering idiot who can't stop talking. Or writing.)
I like the blathering. After all, that's how I process. Just this morning, I sat by the wood stove and wrote page after page . . . and burned them. "Fire pages" help me sort through my thoughts - and trust me when I tell you that 99% of them aren't good for much besides fire starter. Such as . . . today's To-do list (which looks suspiciously like yesterday's), my feelings about coffee grinders, how dull my pencil is getting and how far it is to the sharpener, why I'm such a slow reader. You know, that stuff.
But today's pages had me trying to identify why, for the past several weeks, I have stopped blathering and become this girl:
But also, it is because I have been struck with a paralyzing anxiety about the release of my first novel for kids, Full Moon Lagoon. It's called New Book Jitters, and it's a real thing.
I have been working on this book for years and am thrilled to have it ready to share, because that was the point, right? And I've known for a month now that is was ready to sell and it took me until four days ago to share that little secret with anyone.
I finally jumped off that cliff by calling my sister. When she answered, I said, "I'm freaking out!" (I wasn't really; I just love drama and knew that I needed the kind of push only a big sister can provide.) Before we were even off the phone, she'd posted an announcement to Facebook and I was pretty much obliged to jump.
And so it begins. The past few days were fun - lots of messages of congratulations that I'm finally finished and many good wishes. That wave of affirmation has moved on and I am floating in the trough between the waves, (not unlike the noble sea turtle), wondering if the next wave - the one after people have actually read the book - will be a fun ride, or a slam into the sand that knocks me senseless.
I'm grateful to have made it this far, don't get my wrong. I've had all the support and good luck I could hope for. So I'm trying not to winge. But I need to figure out why launching this book has put me into turtle mode.
I am at the part of the publishing journey that requires my most un-turtle-esque self. The "putting it out there" part. And all I can think is how quiet and peaceful it is inside my shell.
I don't remember feeling this anxious about my non-fiction book and it was very personal. It was just me talking and sharing thoughts and feelings on a pretty intimate level. That should have freaked me out. But somehow, it didn't. I think it is because there was nothing to "evaluate". Readers could judge me of course, but I'm okay with that. You could read what is essentially a memoir and you could say, You're okay. Or you could read it and say, You're an idiot. And I'm okay with that.
But this is a creation. Inherent in that is the whole "good and bad" thing - a concept of which I am not a fan.
I don't want it in my classroom, infecting my students' joy and creativity in learning and, apparently, I don't want to have to deal with it in my own creative work. You can like it or not, that's just taste. But the idea that my art must be declared "good or bad" chokes creativity.
So, here I am. I think I know why I've been turtling and I think I know there's nothing I can do about what's making me nervous.
I do want to share this novel with kids so it's time to stop blathering about it and do it:
Head out, now, and move forward judiciously.
And trust the thick shell.
