I have one New Years Resolution this year. Just one. It helps that I painted my bedroom this past weekend, a “to do” that’s been on my radar for over two years. It also helps that reading and running (mind clearing and creativity producing activities) will (hopefully) aid me in achieving my solitary resolution.
Here goes… My singular (monstrous, exhilarating, terrifying, crazy-ass) New Years Resolution is to write a book. The Book. There. I said it out loud. The current working title is Holy Crap, Am I Really Doing This? (For the record, I’m also considering The Runaway Mama.)
This isn’t the first time I’ve had an idea to write a book. No, my brilliant botched book proposals go way back. Mike jokes that I was born with a book idea. For instance, I Didn’t Go Through The Tunnel: A Memoir Of A Cesarean Baby. Or, Coping With An Older Sibling Who Wants To Murder You. (It’s a true story that my sister stuffed a box of raisins in my mouth when I was a baby).
For all of my inspiration over the years, I never expected motherhood to be the thing that finally gave me my voice. In honor of The Book, here is a list of all of the failed (but earnest) book ideas that, for some reason or another, led me here.
First, there was an untitled “how to” book about being young, living it up and paying the bills in The Big Apple. The only snag was that my parents were supporting my Bloomingdale’s and Bumble & Bumble habit and paying half of my rent every month. Then came Lift Your Leg From The Foot And Other Life Lessons (a working title), a book about all of the life lessons I learned in the dance studio. Good idea, but it’s taken years to realize all of the lessons and I’m not nearly done.
Later came the idea for a book of poetry on the sadness and regret I felt about morphing from an aspiring modern dancer into a public relations professional with a cubicle. (Rent and health insurance was a bitch!) One of many problems with that book idea was that I’m not a poet.
You would think the depressing poetry anthology was my rock bottom. You would be wrong. Next came the idea for A Year of Un-gratitude. It was just after 9-11, everything was scary and kind of sucked, and I was one pessimistic, CNN-obsessed chick. The flaw? I couldn’t sustain the cynicism. Believe me, it was a grim time, but I was also newly engaged and planning my wedding. On September 1, 2002, I had a New York City wedding with all of the personal touches I wanted, and not surprisingly, I had a novel idea to write How To Plan The Wedding You Want. Because there weren’t enough of those books on the shelves at Barnes & Noble!
Soon after, my book aspirations went dormant. In the summer of 2004, when we packed up seven years of New York City/Brooklyn life in less than three weeks to move to Miami, you might suspect I had an itch to write a “starting over,” “surviving new city culture shock,” “kick-starting a nonprofit career,” or “making new friends at 30” book. I didn’t. In 2005, I tried to write about my molar pregnancy, but my emotions were too raw.
As it turns out, this blog was my awakening. For more than two years, it’s been an incredible opportunity to make all of my experiences – including the ones that inspired my crappy book ideas – relevant. Even if I wasn’t actually born with a book idea, perhaps I was born to write a book.
“Everybody has a calling, and your real job in life is to figure out what that is and get about the business of doing it.” – Oprah Winfrey
In 2013, I’m getting about my business. I’m writing a book.
Dear marathon, five ten pounds, family photo albums, scrapbooks, and backyard garden:
We’ll meet again in 2014.
The Runaway Mama
What are your resolutions for 2013?