1) What I planned and what I have are two different things.

2) But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

3) Honesty doesn’t have to be camoflauged in humor.

4) Honesty makes the humor that much more relatable.

5) I write like I speak.

6) Which means the book wouldn’t ring true if I didn’t use the word “fuck” every now and then.

7) Sharing with strangers is easier than sharing with people I Actually Know because…

8 ) A stranger’s judgment comes without consequence and…

9) I may change my name and move to Bali when (and yes, I said when) gets published because…

10) I’m really not looking forward to the size of my ass becoming the topic of conversation at the next family gathering.

11) But I’m ready for my Manic Mommies interview. Oprah is so last year. Unless she decides to keep her show on the air and calls my future agent begging for me to take a seat on that famous couch of hers. Then I’m all about Oprah. Oh yes. My public awaits.

12) There is a story to be told in every moment.

13) Sometimes those moments move faster than the words can flow.

14) Related: Twitter is a great substitute for post-it note reminders. Tweet, favorite, refer to later.

15) It’s easy to compare myself to other writers and think I’m crazy for writing my book. I’m not them! I didn’t say that like they did! But that’s okay because…

16) That’s because I’m telling my story. In my voice.

17) Sleep is over-rated.

18) Typos are the bane of my existence.

19) Proposals and queries are not the root of all evil. Cellulite is. And that friction that comes from my inner thighs rubbing together when I forget to tug on the Spanx when I’m wearing a dress?

20) Mama can put herself first. The dishes will patiently wait till morning. So will the laundry. The child? Yeah…she needs to eat.

It was kind of nice, you know, to not be so caught up in The Process that my creativity was free enough to just chug along. No stress. No performance anxiety. No self-defeating thoughts stunting the very process I just got going not too long ago.

But I’m no idiot. I knew there was more to the game. If it was just “Writer writes book. Interested and enthusiastic agent falls into writer’s lap. Interested and enthusiastic agent gets writer six-figure book deal. And they all lived happily ever after…” well, then, the process of getting published wouldn’t have turned into its own little niche for those of us without a clue, now would it?

So why exactly am I freaking out? Because I’m only 10k into the memoir and already wondering if it is worth continuing. I’m confident in my writing, but scared shitless of the unknown beyond that. What if I only have what
it takes to write, but not the rest of the know-how expected of today’s authors? It’s like a tree falling in the forest. Did it make a sound if no one else was there to hear it? (Read: If I spend ungodly amounts of time pouring my heart into this project and it never gets published, was it worth the effort?)

Maybe I should have just let myself believe in Santa for a little while longer before flipping the damned reality switch, but I’ve already gone and done it. In between loads of laundry, taking care of The Toddler, and trying to work out so I actually HAVE material about losing weight for my memoir, I added “research proposals, queries, agents, and publishing houses” to my list.

And that’s when I pretty much fucked myself, right then and there.

There’s just too much. There’s not enough. And I don’t know which way is up anymore.

In the past week alone, I have spent hours on Amazon searching through hundreds of titles about how to do this, that, and the other, with every one offering the promise knowledge I don’t currently possess. Well, that’s just fan-fucking-tastic. Because the six I ordered—on topics like writing exercises, how to write autobiographies, and how to feel inadequate because I don’t already know how to do any of these things—are now sitting on my desk and I’m now out 60 bucks and wondering why the hell I’m bothering. (I haven’t read them yet. But I’ll let ya know when I do!)

I am a writer. Always have been. What I want is to be a published author. I’m just wishing I didn’t need to find the Wizard and tap my ruby red slippers to figure out how to get from here to there.

What’s my platform? How do I write a solid query? Whom do I query? What if my query sucks? And don’t even get me started on the proposal! Just thinking about all of that is making me want to grab a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and eat. Lots.

(Note to self: Make sure to chronicle mini binge for memoir should it actually occur. It might make for good reading.)

Here’s a tip from me to you: Write your Great American Novel first before you piss on your own parade. Self-doubt and creativity do not a good pair make.