Just like kids

Today's 100 words:

 

When I owned those amaryllis plants--more than twenty--I thought of them as my kids and worried about them in the way one worries about her children: Are they getting enough sun? Enough water? Enough vitamins? Are they too cold? Too hot? I suppose I behaved that way because I didn't have any human children then. Still, the plants were my babies. I had invested a lot into them, and I wanted them to thrive. These new bulbs I bought recently are not my priority now that I'm caring for my own kids, but I still want them to do well.

Doing this for me

I spent a lot of time this afternoon thinking about writing and about how it hasn't been fun for me recently. I've been too wrapped up in worrying about what other people will think of my work, and as a result, I've become paralyzed, unable to write a single word without analyzing it and second-guessing it. I delete more words than I write, and my inner critic tells me that none of my ideas are interesting, that my prose is flat, that no one will ever want to read--much less publish--anything I write. This thinking has gone on for at least a couple of months now, bringing so much insecurity and fear with it.

Today I decided that I was no longer going to let these negative thoughts keep me from doing what I enjoy. I made the following declaration this afternoon, via Twitter:

Decided the only reason to write is because I love it. Worrying about who else will like it stifles me. I need to do this for me. #amwriting

Do this for me. For me.

I can't let worrying about not being good enough keep me from putting words on the page. I can't keep listening to my inner critic as she tells me that I'm no good and should just quit. If I love writing--and I do--then I have to do it for that reason: for the love of it. If other people like it, that will be a bonus. If I can get some of my fiction published someday, that will be wonderful, a very proud moment, I'm sure. But I learned today that writing with my eyes solely on publication--concerned only with what other people think--doesn't work for me. I'm happiest when I'm doing my 100-word exercises, which I once did as mere writing warm-ups but have recently been taking more time with and really contemplating what I want to say. I don't know what that means or where those little snippets can take me. I only know that I enjoy writing them, and I have to let that kind of enjoyment spill over into the projects I'm working on: the collection of short stories I'm planning; my young adult novel about Jed; my NaNoWriMo project, if I choose to do one this year... The bottom line is, I need to write because I want to. I have to do it for me and no one else.

I'm not giving up my dream of publication. That's still something I want very much. I just realize now that I can't place all my focus on that dream. I can't make it the only reason I write. First, I have to write for me, and as I realized today, that's really all that matters.

The greatest gift

My little boy has had a fever for most of the day. He took two naps this afternoon and asked to go to bed tonight, things that never happen around here. The kids rarely get sick, and when they do, my worry gene kicks into overdrive. The nighttime checks become more frequent; I become obsessed with making sure their water cups are never empty; I carry the thermometer from room to room and check their temperatures over and over again...

So tonight I will worry, as all parents do, and I will wake myself up and tiptoe upstairs to my son's room. I will lay my hand across his forehead and then his cheek; I will take his temperature and ask him if he needs a drink of water or to use the bathroom. Then I'll tuck him in and make my way back downstairs, where I will set my alarm so I can wake up and do it all again. I won't sleep much, but that doesn't matter.

He's my precious little boy, and I would do anything for him. He gave me the greatest gift in all the world: he made me a mom.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." ~Rajneesh