Imposter Syndrome

Hello Dear Readers,

I've missed you. I really have! And ironically, I've had a ton of things to talk to you about...I just haven't had the time. Time (and energy) is what I've been lacking since I started my new job. I still haven't figured out where to fit the blog into my new life, but I'm confident I will eventually. Hope everyone has been well these past two months.

As I alluded to in a previous post, where I mentioned I was "working on something" that I couldn't talk about, I left the museum in April and started a new position as a marketing and communications director at a foundation that raises money for cancer care, research and treatment. These jobs are as different as it's possible for two jobs to be, with the only constants being writing, media relations, and editing. As a result, those tasks are as comfortable as an old shoe, and so appreciated. When you're the new kid on the block, it's great to bump into an old friend.

This is my fifth week as a director, and already I've learned some startling things:

People Treat You Differently

It all started when I dragged my best friend along on a suit-buying trip for my new job. My friend did her best to be enthusiastic, but her normal work uniform is jeans and a T-shirt, and I can completely relate. My previous uniform used to be the same, with a blazer thrown over-top to make it seem more professional. Still, I'd been to this store on several occasions, and while I found the service passable, they basically left me alone until they noticed I had a pile of clothes in my arms.

This time, an unusually chatty woman asked if I needed something for a job interview. I told her no, that I needed something for a new job, so of course she asked what this new job was. And I told her. That was my first mistake. As my friend stifled her amusement, I learned that there is such a thing as too much customer service. The woman turned into a fawning sycophant, offering to be available to me as a personal shopper and asking me at least eight times if I needed anything. It was a little much, and it spooked me, especially when she pledged her loyalty to our foundation's greatest competition as she rang up my clothes (if you're going to suck up, make sure you're sucking up to the right organization).

It turned out that this was just the beginning. People who expressed concern, doubt, or wariness when they found out I'd left the museum fell over themselves with congratulations when they heard about my new position. And people who'd never given me the time of day were suddenly acting like my best buddies, especially if they were hoping for some work from the foundation. I was relieved to discover that a lot of the contract people the foundation uses actually are friends who I would hire anyway.

Maybe my readers experience this kind of thing on a regular basis, but it's all new to me. I'm the girl who was asked when I was going to get a "real" job when I made my living from freelance journalism. During my seven years at the museum, the question I was most frequently asked was, "are you still THERE?" like my position had a built-in expiry date that I wasn't aware of. Congratulations, adulation and solicitation are not something I'm used to. And what makes it all the more strange is....

I'm Exactly the Same

I'm still sarcastic with a slightly flippant sense of humour. I still trust people too easily. I'm great at the same things, and I'll probably be terrible at the same things (although hopefully I'll learn enough that I'll get better). My mind works the same--I still tend to deflect compliments but be chastened more than I should by mild criticism. It's not like I became someone else when I got a fancier title, which makes being treated differently all the more surreal.

In the past month, I've met people that ordinarily would have never known my name. I've made big decisions that used to be the sole domain of my supervisor. Instead of eating a quick volunteer supper of cold pizza in the staff lounge, I've been welcomed to the ballroom for the same meal the VIPs are served. Anderson Cooper's people have called me directly. I was able to share a moment with a national hero. Is it amazing? Yes, definitely. Does it make me any different than I was before? Definitely not.

I may be the only director who comes home after an exhausting day, crawls into flannel pajamas (yes, even in the summer), and eats disgusting pasta that came in a can. But that's me, and I will probably never change.

And I'm okay with that.

Growing Pains

For seven years, this has been my second home.

One of the best ways to appreciate what you have is to lose it. As I prepare to say goodbye to the wonderful museum where I have worked for the past seven years--and the amazing people who make it what it is--I find that even the things I used to dread are now precious, because I won't have them much longer.

The museum is a unionized environment, and as such, we have two "mandatory" fifteen-minute breaks. For a few years, I've skipped these breaks because I've been too caught up with getting things done. But now I regret that, because those thirty minutes a day are spent with some of the most incredible people I've ever met--people who fix things. People who protect our history. People who show children how to love science and archaeology. People who conduct research and do everything they can to learn more about endangered species and how to save them. And, of course, people who make money so everyone else can continue to fix and protect and teach and research. It's a diverse group, but one that is fiercely devoted to a common goal, which binds us all together. Most people who are hired by the museum stay until they retire or are forced to go...which makes me an anomaly. In so many ways, I already don't belong anymore. It makes me sad.

So, for my last two weeks, I've been going to every break, just to enjoy the company of these people while I still can.

It was a Friday afternoon, and everyone was a bit exhausted from handling the spring break crowds--our busiest season of the year--and perhaps a little worried that it wasn't quite as busy as it should have been.

Sitting beside me was the man who keeps the planetarium and science gallery and pretty much everything else in running condition. But he is so much more than that. He is a daily lesson on how to live your best life, and he has the best collection of amusing true stories in the world. Everyone loves him, and rightly so.

Across from him was the man he's shared an office with for probably close to twenty years, the audio-visual specialist who takes amazing photographs (even though that's not his job), predicts the weather flawlessly if you ask, and is easy to write off as quiet, but who will talk your ear off if he trusts you. He has the type of laugh that makes everyone else laugh, too, and there isn't a mean bone in his body.

We were soon joined by our 3-D designer, whose job it is to turn the scientists' ideas into the exhibit spaces we walk through and marvel at....and the museum programs developer, who somehow manages to turn topics like the Second World War into something children will find interesting...and the I.T. department, who is really only one guy who used to be an archaeologist...but that's a long story.

It was a normal break, with all of us sacked out on faux leather couches, chatting about shows we love and Girl Guide cookies and whatever else struck our fancy, when in walked the director of fund development. He was carrying a package of microwave popcorn. He lined a wicker bowl with a napkin, poured in the freshly popped corn, and sat down on the couch, handing us each a paper towel to wipe our greasy fingers.

It was a simple thing...a small thing. Hardly worth noticing to a lot of people, and if I didn't write it down, I probably wouldn't remember it a year from now. But there we were, on a Friday afternoon, a group of co-workers sharing a bowl of popcorn. It's amazing how a shared snack turns colleagues into friends.

It is time for me to leave this place, and the people that I love. I did what was best for me, and I know it, but that doesn't make it easy. There is something so rare about a workplace that not only allows that kind of camaraderie, but encourages it.

And it will take a long, long time not to miss it anymore.

Lucky Seven

Hello Dear Readers,

I owe you a massive apology. I can't believe I haven't been back here in eighteen days! There's (almost) no excuse for that, but I have been really busy making sure I hit my rewrite deadline at the end of this month. I've also been swamped with freelance work in my (ha ha) spare time, as well as working on an exciting project that I hope I'll be able to tell you about soon.

In the meantime, the lovely aspiring author A.M. Swan tagged me to participate in the Lucky 7 meme, which is forcing me (gasp!) to unveil part of my manuscript a little early. I'm supposed to post seven lines from page 77, so here goes:

This chapter finds my protagonist struggling to find both rational and not-so-rational explanations for what is happening to her. At this point, she'll try just about anything. The following seven lines are a portion of a conversation between Jo and a medium who is doing a smoke reading for her.

- excerpt from Dragonfly Summer

A fire, however small, would push my landlord’s already frazzled patience to the limit. I reached for my coffee, just in case I needed to dowse it, but then the flame settled down. It burned brightly, casting a warm yellow glow upon the room.


Agnes handed me the square of paper. “I need you to think about what’s been happening here in this house. Any questions you have, hold them in your mind as you run the paper over the flame.”

“What?” My poker face vanished at the suggestion of deliberately starting a blaze.

“Don’t worry. It won’t burn. And the smoke reading will tell us what we want to know. Try to make figure eights over the flame, and move quickly. If you hold it still, it might catch fire.”

Now for the basic rules of this meme:


1. Go to page 77 of your current MS/WIP

2. Go to line 7

3. Copy down the next 7 lines, sentences, or paragraphs, and post them as they’re written.

4. Tag 7 authors

5. Let them know

So, now I have to tag seven more people. And here they are:

1) Ev Bishop
 
2) Laura Best
 
3) Kim Mitchell
 
4) Mystic Mom
 
5) Susie Moloney
 
6) Lisa S.
 
7) Michelle Davidson Argyle
 
Have fun! I hope this early spring is treating you well. (And if you don't have an early spring in your part of the world, my apologies.)

Better Life Challenge #1

Happy Friday Dear Readers,

As many of you know, I have a tough few years ahead as I attempt to achieve several big goals in my life. Some of these goals are mentioned here.

In order to do this and not burn myself out, several things have to change. I've decided to tackle one of these changes each month--let's call them "better life challenges". Maybe some of you would like to take on these challenges with me, or come up with some of your own.

Some of these changes I've attempted before, but not with any lasting success. The ones that are the most difficult are the ones that are the most contrary to my nature, but until I'm living the life I want, they are necessary.

The first challenge may also be the hardest. March's Better Life Challenge is....

Get More Sleep.

I've written about this before. I'm a notorious night owl. I think sleeping is the biggest waste of time, so I put it off as long as possible. There is always something more interesting to do. But since I want to wake up at 6 a.m. each day to work on my novel, getting to bed at 2 a.m. isn't going to cut it.

Lack of sleep definitely contributes to burn-out. It makes me tired throughout the day, and it's more of a challenge to get to the gym. It drastically affects my energy levels, and it could be cutting my life short...who knows? All I do know is that I feel better when I get eight hours of sleep or more each night.

So here's the challenge defined: for the month of March, I will go to bed at 10 pm (10:30 at the very latest) each night of the weekday. I'll report back if I'm noticing any difference in my life, or if I'm struggling to stick to it. If it works out well, I'll try to keep it going past March.

On the weekends, I'm going to be more lax, but I'll still try to get to bed before 4 a.m. so I'm not completely wrecked the next day.

Wish me luck! What is one thing you'd like to change about your life this month? Do you get enough sleep?

The Blue Period

 

I feel funny about writing this so soon after many posts about being grateful and optimistic, but the truth is, sometimes I get really down.

I think the word "depression" is overused, so I won't refer to it to describe this feeling, as there is a big difference between being clinically depressed and getting a bit sad from time to time.

I'm generally a positive person, so these blue periods often catch me unawares. Since I'm analytical, I will spend much time and energy trying to figure out why I'm feeling this way...is it a lack of exercise? Too little meaningful connection with family or friends? Not enough vitamins? Who knows? All I know is that, most of the time, the sadness will leave as swiftly as it came on, giving me no further ammunition to fight it the next time.

Being sensitive is great for creativity and expression, but it can also bring on the blues. I will shed tears over stories of animal abuse or environmental woes. Sometimes it doesn't take much to make me sad: a missed opportunity, a harsh word from someone I thought was a friend, an inability to do something I've been successful at in the past, a cruel comment on this blog, or simply making a mistake. As much as I try not to "sweat the small stuff", sometimes I just do, and I've had to accept that. On the flip side, I'm incredibly strong when a genuine crisis comes along. Go figure.

It's difficult to enjoy the journey when you feel like you've been running in place for years. Yes, I'm out of debt, but because of our ambitious plan to save everything we can for a move, travel, and long-term savings, I still have to watch every penny. My rewrites are finally progressing nicely, but let's face it--that road to publication is so long that I can't begin to glimpse the end of it yet. I've been freelancing for almost 20 years, but I'm still paid peanuts for the work that I do. The list goes on...there is always a positive and a negative way of looking at things, and I'm very good at both. And knowing there are many people who have it much worse than I do doesn't snap me out of a funk...it just adds guilt to the mix. I hope that one day, I will look back and be able to see a purpose and a positive result for how hard I've worked to make things happen, but when you're the hamster on the wheel, it's difficult to have that perspective.

Sometimes it just helps to talk about it. Thanks for listening.

Do you ever encounter the blues? How do you battle them? Do you think it's just the price we pay for being creative, and therefore sensitive?

Enjoy the Journey

When you're a writer, it's easy to get hung up on where you want to be, instead of appreciating where you are. Sometimes it feels like the writers with bestselling books or big deal publishers have won the lottery...and you aren't even sure where to buy a ticket.

But there are some wonderful perks to being unpublished...yes, perks! that you may not have considered.

1. You can write what you want. Just think--this may be the last time you get to write a book that pleases you. You can write what you want, when you want, however you see fit, without anyone telling you it's not marketable enough, or that it doesn't fit a desirable niche. Enjoy it.

2. You can take as long as you like. Need to spend five years on that book to really get the feel for your protagonist? Go ahead...you're not under contract to write three books in three years.

3. Tired of rewriting? You can start something new. Unpublished authors don't have to deal with the expectations of agents and publishers, so they can write to please themselves. That's how they get good, by writing a lot and trying new things when it's still fun.

4. You don't need a lawyer or an agent. You might not even need an accountant. Publishing contracts can be scary and confusing. Unless you're a skilled negotiator, you may want some help wading through one.

5. Your potential is still limitless. Maybe you will be the next J.K. Rowling or Stephen King. Maybe you will write the classic novel of our time...who knows? When your publishing history is well-established, you will have a strong indication of where you stand. Before you're published you can dream as big as you like. There are no limits.

6. Writers are still your comrades in arms. When you're an unpublished author, there is no end of like-minded people to commiserate with. But when you land an agent, that pond gets much smaller, and when you get published, it shrinks again. Look at your writing friends now, appreciate them, and accept that they might not feel the same way about you once you find success.

7. No one is judging you but yourself. Right now, you're your own worst critic. Get published, and you will find people dying to tear you a new one on Amazon.

8. You're not pigeonholed. Similar to #1, just because you've written a mystery for teens doesn't mean you have to keep writing them. But once you get published, your readers (and your publisher) will understandably want more of the books that they're loving and selling.

9. The only pressure is self-inflicted. The more popular you are as an author, the more pressured you are to keep repeating that success. Right now, the only person you have to answer to is you.

I often feel the conflict between "live each day like it's your last" and "think long term". There's a danger in truly living each day as if it's our last--imagine what would happen if everyone quit their job, cashed in their savings, and moved to Aruba.

But there is a way to enjoy every step of the process. Whenever you're fretting over not being published, remember the advantages you do have, and enjoy them while you still can. It's kind of like being single--those carefree days are only truly appreciated by the married.

Gratitude

Happy Friday, Dear Readers.

Let's face it: life can be very hard, and it can be cruel. Sometimes even the day-to-day routine of paying bills, cleaning the house, driving the kids to a gazillion different places, and putting in your time at a day job can wear you down. It's so easy to forget to be grateful.

I'd like to think I've learned a few lessons about gratitude in my time. I was supposed to be in a wheelchair by my early twenties. My best friend died in a tragic accident when I was seventeen, and another young friend committed suicide. So I know life is short. I know that there are no guarantees, so you should be kind while you can and grateful for what you have.

But sometimes, I forget.

Right now, I'm grateful that I was born a storyteller. Since I can tell stories, I am regularly connected with people who have the most amazing stories to share. Sometimes they are simple, like that of the  man who left a Hutterite colony with only the clothes on his back, and now runs one of the most successful catering businesses in the province, if not the country. Sometimes they are more unusual, like the elderly woman who as a young girl carried messages in her shoes to the Allied Forces during World War II, while a Jewish family hid for their lives in her home. I never know at the start what each interview will ultimately teach me, but it's quite often a lesson of gratitude, courage, and resilience.

Human beings are nothing if not resilient.

My most recent lesson in gratitude came from a 28-year-old heart transplant recipient. Kristin found out she had a heart condition at 18--news that was a huge shock to this healthy, active woman, but which never stopped her for a second. When her nasty "stomach flu" in 2009 turned out to be heart failure, she faced each challenge with love, laughter, and such optimism. This young woman--who has already been through much more than most of us will ever face in our lifetime--made me laugh...and cry...several times during our interview. And she generously allowed me to tell more of her story on this blog, which I will do at a later date. I want to take the time to honor her story.

I am grateful that people like Kristin are willing to open up and share their stories with me, so I can share them with you. This is a gift I never take for granted. And I'm grateful that my own heart--though bruised and somewhat jaded--is still open to being moved and changed by the people I meet through my writing.

What are you grateful for? Have you ever met an extraordinary "ordinary" person?