Dreamers and Doers

Y'all remember this little nugget of a little New Year's Resolution I made? I mean, it's one thing to out yourself to a bunch of drunk people at midnight for your New Years Resolution. I can't make it that easy. I make a promise to my daughter and then blog it, hoping, I'm sure completely subconsciously that it being in print and all, I'll simply be held accountable.

No one has held me accountable or called me out with "Hey, where's that fancy book you were gonna write?" I'm assuming it's for a few reasons. Number one - they don't want me to beat them with my fists of rage and defensiveness. Number two - they're pretty certain there would be no reason to ask. Had I written the book, I probably wouldn't have kept it secret.

Only one thing is certain about announcing you're a writer and have ambition to write a book - everyone else does too. Which is fine. I think we all have a book or two (or seven - you know - to match all the voices in my head - whatever) in hour heads and hearts. So, the dream is there. But apparently, I'm a big fat dreamer and not always a doer.

Let me take that back and own up and toot my own horn here for a moment. I AM a doer. I've done some pretty cool things. I've DONE an Olympic Triathlon. And I continue to DO triathlons. I've gotten up on stage and DONE comedy. And then there's the time, against my better judgment that I sure DID bear hug Mo Rocca. I did all of those things. And the way I grocery shop - I DO that every week. I'm pretty awesome. And I totally love myself, y'all don't worry. We're flying high over here in the self-esteem department.

Still, I've got somewhat of Writer's Block I've got going on. I'm not sure it's block - more like lack of discipline meshed with self-diagnosed A.D.H.D., twins, triathlons, and worrying about my weight while baking a cake. You know, very important stuff like that. Strangely enough, I've read more this year than ever.

I signed up for a Wade Rouse's Writer's Workshop. Say that five times fast. It's partly because I kind of have a crush on this guy - and his partner. I just want to hug them. Is that so wrong? I stumbled into Wade's last session at the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop. I almost missed this guy, and as he spoke, explained, and did a writing exercise, I believe the guy is a) brilliant and 2) not only a gifted writer, but a gifted teacher of the craft. And also, I just wanna hug him.

Rouse writes humor memoirs. You should read them. They are clever, emotionally gripping, and bust-a-gut funny. I find myself relating to his situations and relationships. That he connects with so many on so many levels is a sell for me. Teach me your ways, Sinsei.

Some people suggest, I should just write. That I don't need a workshop. And to you, I say, shut up. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, here! It just occurred to me today that perhaps there's some fancy writer's software that I should be using. When I roll in to Saugatuck, with my Microsoft Word document, I'm concerned I'll be mocked like that damned clothes swap all over again. "OMG - did you see what she was wearing/eating/writing on!?"

Signing up for the workshop is a lot like signing up for a triathlon. You click "submit" and when it's verified and paid for, you're like, "Shit, I better get to the gym, I guess. Now what was that combination for my lock?" Very similar. It holds you accountable. Helps you realize once again, "Hey Les, remember, you're serious about this writing gig."

Once I signed up, Gary - or as I like to say - me in a man's body - emailed me and suggested I have some writing done to work with. And there it is, someone to hold me accountable other than the voices in my head with a gentle nudge, "Uh, you better get that badonka donk to the gym. And you best git to writing."

So, here we are, dreams in my head, sore body from the badonka donk in the gym, and a clear mind from waking up early to write. Sometimes dreamers are doers. Just on our own time.

That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Twisted by Jane Monheit