“Are you writing a book?”
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that question in the past two weeks, I’d have two nickels - which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird it happened twice.
The short answer to this question is “No,” but we all know I don’t like short answers around here (see the website header for context).
The true answer to this question goes a little something like this:
“Maybe? I have consistent stories that I’ve dreamed up that interest me. I have pages of notes on my laptop with ideas and research. I have experience. I have support… But something keeps holding me back.”
For a long time, I didn’t know what that something was. I’ve thought to myself, “Maybe it’s the fact that I write and edit for a living and am just tired when I get home? Maybe I’m just not that excited about writing as a hobby and feel like an imposter?” Both arguments are sound, but I think I landed on the real reason not so long ago, and it startled me.
Maybe I just don’t think I’m good enough?
It sounds wrong typing it. It looks wrong reading it. I’m not confident in every area of my life, but I am confident in my creativity. I know this thought is the number one reason people don’t follow their dreams, and yet here I am feeling the same way.
Growing up I always liked storytelling. I remember coming up with “shows” when I was in elementary school with my friends during recess - we’d pitch storylines and act them out together. As I got older, I would write my stories in notebooks, yet they were always on the shorter side (oh how things have changed).
In middle school, I always did fine in my English and Literature classes, but I was never the standout. I didn’t read 100 books a year like some people or understand every comma rule. Despite my average showing, I never stopped loving storytelling and made sure everyone knew it.
Now is probably a good a time as any to thank my parents, grandparents and sisters for listening to me for all these years. I never shut up as a preteen, and I fear it only got worse in high school. The fact you still listen to me and my dramatic (to an extent) retellings of real-life events is a testament of your love. I am forever grateful for your ears - and your hearts.
By the time I got to high school, I dreamed of becoming a journalist like my adolescent hero: Rory Gilmore. I started watching Gilmore Girls very young (too young?) and admired Rory Gilmore, especially during her Chilton years. She was a writer for her school paper, and I always thought that this kind of after-school activity seemed fun. To my surprise, my high school had a paper and the rest is history.
It didn’t take me long to realize I wasn’t the best writer on staff. I was a freshman after all… until I wasn’t. Over the next three years, I learned that there were girls* in my grade who made everything prettier with their words, and they wrote circles around me. My English teachers never took to my writing style or creativity the way they did with my classmates. (*I went to an all-girls’ school, so this isn’t me trying to be petty and singling out only my feminine counterparts - my peers were girls and I compared myself to them).
Again, I was just average.
I think believing you’re average in something you love might be the hardest pill to swallow. Being the best is the ideal, and no one forgets the best… but no one forgets the worst either. In the moment it might sting, but being the worst comes with a story that everyone can end up laughing at years later. It builds character.
Being “average” is like being forgettable in so many ways. You placed in the competition, but you didn’t win. You said something profound, but no one can remember who said it. You’re good, but not good enough.
No one who really cares about something wants to just be good enough.
Over time, if it happens regularly, this belief gets in your head. It eats away at you and your confidence. You begin to wonder, “Am I good enough to make my dreams come true? If my teachers don’t like my writing, who else will?”
My journalism dreams officially died junior year when I realized I didn’t like writing about issues I didn’t care about. I got put on a lead that I lacked any interest in and decided it was time to formally “update my career plan” (You probably think this is a very funny way to react as a high schooler, but I was a very serious 16 year old). After researching similar fields, I stuck with my aspirations of majoring in mass communication but shifted my focus to public relations.
When I started college, I was worried my professors would have a similar lack of interest in my writing, but I was surprised. My English professor consistently gave me high marks and my media writing professor was always interested in the stories I told in my assignments. I had more confidence than I had in years, but nothing meant more than hearing the words, “Nicole, you’re a good writer,” from my beloved PR writing professor (and mentor - I love you lots, Sadie).
I share this long-winded story as my first post because I’ve been reminded of something recently that speaks a whole lot of truth into where I am in my life:
Sometimes you’re not everyone’s cup of tea.
As a mid-twentysomething who writes on behalf of an organization for a living, is a bit burnt out, cares a whole lot about what other people think of her, and has doubted her ability in writing for a bit too long (even with some of the loudest cheerleaders cheering her on), it’s a hard truth to swallow if you’re a people pleaser like me, but it’s true nonetheless.
Sometimes you’re too sweet or too bitter or too earthy for some people (? - I’m going to be honest here; I don’t drink tea except for sweet tea so I don’t know all of the reasons someone might not want to drink tea). Sometimes you tell stories through poetic prose and sometimes you like to infuse your writing with humor. Sometimes you like to tell a short story long, instead of a long story short ;)
But in all seriousness, it makes me think of a quote from from St. Thérèse of Lisieux: “If every flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.” It’s cliché, but it speaks to this feeling so well. I’m not meant to be a writer like the girls in my high school English class or my co-workers or the author whose book I’m currently reading. I’m not meant to be a writer for a specific person’s interest or palette. I am meant to be a writer. And I’m supposed to figure out what kind of writer that is myself.
So, to return to the question at hand…
“Are you writing a book?”
Not exactly, but perhaps now is the time to start writing stories with purpose and passion for myself. Maybe it’s my time to go back to my roots and write for fun (I like the sound of that). Who knows what stories I’ll tell?
I hope you enjoyed my first Substack entry. If you like it, be sure to subscribe for more short stories long.
If you’re really resonating with the “Sometimes you’re not everyone’s cup of tea” revelation, I highly recommend making the song below your new anthem. I’ll never forget where I was when I heard the bridge for the first time:
“It was all in front of me and then it hit me suddenly, that my coffee lost kick being everybody’s cup of tea.”