Uppercase Woman

Work • Writing • Blogging

I've been trying to compose a blog post but my head is swirling with issues related to work and blogging and trying to make blogging work and trying to figure out how in the hell I'm going to have a decent Christmas when I'm not earning enough money to even live on right now and how Charlie is carrying too much of the household income earning load and what can I do and...

So I figured I would write about it.

When I left my nice, safe, not-terribly-challenging-but-still-fun full time job in May of 2007, I knew there was a good chance that my life would look like it does now. I was lucky enough to get a subcontracting gig that lasted 15 months--nearly nine months longer than initially projected--but now that is gone, and I'm left trying to cobble together a living with my blog ad revenue, one new freelance writing gig that is still in the process of testing me, and writing for Savvy Source Parenting as the Philadelphia editor which pays peanuts, but it does pay, only it pays quarterly so I have no idea when I'll actually get a check.

I was recently invited to join a new network of local mom bloggers, but it doesn't pay at all so I'm probably going to pass even though it could mean more exposure as well as plugging in to a great local community. I really enjoyed writing for Type-A Mom but I've stopped that since that didn't pay either.

Freelancing is a scary way to make a living. Being a freelancer in a bad economy can go two ways--it can be great because companies don't want to hire in-house people that need benefits and stuff, or it can be bad because companies cinch their belts so tightly that they force the already overwhelmed in-house folks to do even more because the companies KNOW their abused employees won't be able to find new work elsewhere.

Obviously, I'm hoping for the former rather than the latter. But honestly, I don't know how the current economic crisis is going to play out. I was recently hired for two separate projects and one is substantially time consuming compared to the pay rate (it does appear that this will improve as I become more familiar with the company's policies), and the other project is still in limbo (although I'm assured work will come "soon."). Additionally, the company I was subcontracting with might still have piece work for me that could turn into substantial work--but again, I'm waiting to hear from them (they at least have an estimate in hand).

Then there is this hear blog.

I currently spend about six hours a day working on this blog, Monday to Friday (although I do spend an hour or two each weekend day as well). It takes me about two hours to actually write and research a post, plus I respond by email to every comment, plus I keep up on current events enough that I can speak intelligently about them here. That doesn't even include reading your blogs, plus feminist blogs, plus fat activism blogs, plus political blogs (both sides), plus mommy blogs (over 200 in all--this is why I rarely comment any more, sadly). My income from this blog works out to about $2.17 an hour.

But I am committed to taking this blog wherever it can go--this is, after all, where I live. I am more true to myself because of this blog than at any other point of my life. I'm lucky too--I have readers. LOTS AND LOTS of readers (I'm no Dooce, but this blog gets around 200,000 page views a month--nothing to sneeze at). I used to say I have a high readership because of the attention I got when I lost my sons (both from those expressing sympathy and those expressing, shall we say, something else). And it's true that brought me a fair amount of attention; but I have to admit, humbly as I can, that the reason people stay to read is that they like what I write. And that is not a bad thing. And I have every right to be paid to do it.

I've been reading some social media marketing blogs, and talking to social media gurus, and they tell me I am a BRAND. Which I thought was odd, until someone pointed out that swearing is part of my brand, and then I thought it was cool. So what I've been working on since I got back from BlogHer 08 has been fine-tuning and marketing my brand. It's been interesting, but it takes a lot of work, and I have to walk a fine line where I keep this blog true to me AND somehow earn more money. It's tough.

For instance, I suspect that my focusing on politics here--not to mention the swearing--costs me both product reviews and ad revenue. But I am absolutely NOT going to be quiet about politics here, and I sure as fuck am going to swear when I write about politics--even WITH Obama in the White House. It's also quite possible that what I write here costs me freelance writing gigs as well. But changing this blog? Not going to happen.

So, basically to round this all up, I know who I am. I know what I want to do, and what I want to write. Now I just need to hit that tipping point that makes it all possible. I can feel that I'm close; it's just going to take continued hard to work to get there.

Oh, and I am still hoping to put together a book proposal. I'm thinking I'll do it between Christmas and New Year's when I might take a little hiatus from blogging here. Maybe.

But the main thing that matters to me is continuing to be CECILY. I never want to go back to working at an office where I have to cover my tattoos and watch what I say all the time. Because--not even talking about no longer spending my days with Tori--that would kill me. And I like me these days. A whole lot.

All I want is enough to pay my bills. Really. Not much. I don't want to get rich (I won't REFUSE riches, but it's not my goal). I just want to live a normal, run-of-the-mill, American life. It's not too much to ask... is it?

The Work-At-Home Juggle

Before I embark on this entry, please remember that for many states today is the VERY LAST DAY you can register to vote. Republican, Democrat, or undecided--doesn't matter. I don't care if you write in your cat's name, just get out there and VOTE. Especially if you are a woman. These ladies fought for us; don't let them down.

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I woke up with a brain devoid of blogging topics, so I cast a net on twitter asking for topics and three different folks asked me how I balance being Tori's mom and working at home. Truth? I'm not sure I do, even after a year plus of trying.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings Tori goes to morning care* from 9-12; whoever gets up with her (we alternate days) usually takes her over (only about a half-mile away). She gets home at 12:15, eats lunch, and then goes up for a nap (God willing she'll be like me and nap until she's FOUR) until about 3:00 or so.

Tuesday and Thursday mornings I go to a recovery meeting that offers babysitting, for free, which is awesome. We usually stop at a grocery store following the meeting (Whole Foods and Trader Joe's are both close to one of my meetings, and there are certain things we can only get there) or maybe we'll stop at the library. My only work time on those days is during Tori's nap; Charlie gets the mornings to do his work. Afternoons, post Tori's nap, are time we either spend together as a family, or one of us takes Tori somewhere so the other one can work if needed. Also, if I get up with Tori really early, I might sneak some work in while she watches Sesame Street (although that means more typos. heh).

Weekends I usually also work during nap time, or I'll clean/cook/shop/organize/menu plan. Household things. However, the house frequently gets away from us and ends up being a huge disorganized mess.

As you can see, I don't really work full-time. I work about 30 hours a week, unless I have a big project or deadline and then I need to work in the evenings after Tori has gone to bed. I don't like to do that, however; I find if I do, I get really run down quickly and resent the fuck out of it. Evenings  are down time; time to relax, watch TV, and read books. Time to talk to Charlie (we try to take a moment every evening to discuss the next day and find out if we have any special issues to deal with, and how we are going to divide Tori duty) and reconnect. If one of us has a big project with a looming deadline, we rearrange things to accommodate that need.

The real challenge with this lifestyle isn't really time management; it's money management. We recently went through 30 days without pay. Together we had over $8,000 in outstanding billing, but no one was bothering to actually PAY us. We, like most Americans, operate with little in the way of savings so we have to toss lots of things in the air to keep the bills paid and the fridge stocked--and sometimes the bills go unpaid for a bit in favor of groceries. That's just the way it is.

I consider this blog part of my work. I'm sure you've noticed lots of changes in the last ten months or so, and even more since BlogHer. Truth is, I earn money with this blog--not a lot--and I'd like to make more. I blog Monday through Friday now, and I am constantly trying to find ways to increase my ad revenue and my readership. Why?

Because I LOVE writing here. It means a huge amount to me, and I can't imagine my life without it. While I enjoy all the writing I do, what I love more than anything else is to write this blog. This is where my heart lives. Many people have told me that the best way to find happiness in your work is to do what you love, so that is what I am trying to do. I am trying to find a way to make this part of how I make my living--but WITHOUT compromising the primary role (and, I hope, appeal) of the blog.

So. Is this post boring you? I don't blame you a bit.

The main things that sucks about working from home and working for myself is this; one, I'm never truly off duty--I always feel the computer keys calling to me. Two, I do not see any people except Charlie and Tori. I miss seeing others, and having adult conversations. I swear, I've forgotten how to talk to people. I met someone at a party on Saturday night (my first adult party since last Christmas), and all I could talk about was Tori (and the place we both worked, although at different times, and how much it sucked-- nice, right?). This is why I'm trying to schedule a regular Wednesday afternoon playgroup (at Clark Park, around 4pm, should you want to join us) although last week we got rained out (boy, was I pissed).

But overall? I really, really, REALLY hope I never have to work in an office again. Although if I do, I am never going to return to pretending to be someone I'm not--I don't want to look "professional" (meaning, hide the tattoos), and I don't ever again want to be the "face" of an organization. Being who I really am is the very best thing about working for myself.

* Tori's been struggling with AWFUL separation anxiety--last week was hell, culminating in Tori having to leave Sunday School yesterday because she wouldn't stop crying at church. I had to sing my choir part--as the only soprano!--with Tori resting on my shoulder, sighing those little hiccuping sighs. Charlie and I spent the last 24 hours discussing "playgroup" with Tori, and today went much better. Hoping it's just a phase.

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So, dinner, Sunday night in Bethesda, Maryland! W00t! It's on, people. I'm thinking 6:30pm (if you'd rather do later, or earlier, let me know right away). Melissa is also going to be there (yeeha! that means someone even cooler than me will be there!) and she recommended that we all meet here. It's Mexican, meaning margaritas for you moms escaping the kids, and there will be something for most folks, even vegetarians. Yeah! I can't wait to see you all! Just email me if you can definitely come so that I know for sure how many of us there will be so I can make a reservation. Maybe in a private room. Cause I suspect we are gonna be one noisy group of mofos. Heh.

You Are Amazing. No, really, you are.

Seriously, people, do you have any idea how spectacularly wonderful you are? I mean, who needs Prozac when y'all are here? Because you have singlehandedly taken this hopeless, depressed, miserable woman and completely turned her around.

While I still have a vested interest in the outcome of this election (and of course want it to go my own way--heh), you have all reminded me that I love people and that people, overall, are pretty great. No matter what happens in November, the American people are not really a nation divided. We have common goals, common hopes and dreams, and believe in each other.

But what was most interesting about the last two posts is that we are all actually in complete agreement. I find that hilarious. Across the board, everyone--conservative, moderate, and liberal--believes the following that makes them feel disenfranchised:

• They are not currently represented by the government.
• No politician currently running for office represents them perfectly.
• The media is totally biased and it's not possible to get the truth about candidates.

Also, everyone loves America. For the same reasons. All of us love this country because:

• Diversity, both in our people and our landscape.
• Our freedoms.
• Our governmental structure and constitution.
• The character of the American people.

I am so glad I did these two posts! What an overwhelming relief to know that in truth, we have more in common than not. I know I'm being mercilessly sunny and optimistic here, but seriously--in this age of divisiveness--when the politicians and the media are trying to drive us apart, don't you think we need to confound them all by coming together?

By the way, for everyone looking for a way to cut through the noise and clutter about the candidates, check this out. This is the site run by the Annenberg Public Policy Center at the University of Pennsylvania, and they routinely check things like campaign ads, policy, etc and tell you what is TRUE and what is NOT. For both sides. No one gets off easy. I hope you find that it helps.

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I just wanted to update you all about a couple of things. First off, I'm continuing my hunt to find new clients so the loss of my main client won't cause me to be, oh, homeless (kidding, kidding; panic, panic). In looking for new ways to get money (and free stuff) I've started a review blog. Since going to BlogHer, lots and lot of folks want to send me stuff for free but I can't accept it without violating my contract with BlogHer Ads (ah, the irony) so I've started this new blog to talk about that stuff. I'll let you know when a new entry appears there (like, um, TODAY when I review Tiny Prints), and I hope you'll read (and subscribe it to your blog reader!). I promise to be just as tough on the products as I am on Republicans. Heh.

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Tori, by the way, has been much better behaved lately. We found out something interesting: her tantrums and hitting and throwing directly corresponded to her watching the TV show Caillou. I watched an episode with her (she demanded it) and to my shock I saw that the little bald monster that is Caillou is shown hitting, throwing, and tantruming on the show. (On an unrelated note, we are working hard at decreasing Tori's TV time, but we still use it a bit to get work done). Since we've been extremely consistent with punishment (and as long as we don't let her get too tired or hungry (as Sarah can attest--Tori knocked Sarah's iced tea into her lap at lunch the other day at lunch by throwing her sippy cup when Tori was both tired and hungry), she's been much better (except for fighting like HELl when it's bedtime. But that's another story). So Caillou is officially banned. We let her watch Oswald instead. Oswald is very nice and polite.

However, we do have a different problem. Tori's morning care program started back up last week, but they've made some changes. The biggest and worst change is that they've combined Tori's class with another one and that class has a teacher she hates and is scared off (and it appears to us that the teacher actually dislikes Tori). Her old teacher is still there too, but we can't drop Tori off if the disliked teacher is the only one in the room; we have to wait with her until the other teacher arrives.

Overall she comes home tired and mostly, as far as we can tell, happy. But she's not like she was last year, begging to not go home when we picked her up. So do we find another place? Express our concerns to the director? Arg. I really don't know what to do. If Tori was totally miserable, the answer would be clear. But she's not, just not as happy as she was. Is that enough reason? I really feel confused.

My church's Sunday School teacher--who Tori loves--also runs a day care, and we're going to go check it out. It's a bit more expensive (sigh--the conundrum of paying for daycare so I can work) but it might be a better alternative. What would you do?

So, THIS will REALLY be the last post about you-know-what (oh, and I talk about God too)

This morning at my recovery meeting (the one I oh-so-reluctantly dragged my ass out of bed for) the topic was, as it often is, God. But not like the usual, "God is AWESOME and that's why I'm sober/sane/no longer codependent" (really depends what flavor of meeting I go to which of those things God is credited for). No, here they were discussing how a belief in a higher power can give you back the peace of mind you lost by practicing whatever behavior you are attending the meeting for.

OK, I'm going to pause for a moment to try to explain my vagueness. If I were still anonymous on this blog like I was back in the very beginning--before the press started asking for my real name (OK, two reporters asked; I'm not THAT famous)--I could be super specific about what kind of meetings I go to and what we talk about. But since you all know I live in Philadelphia, and my name is Cecily, and I'm not the local weather forecaster by the same name, it would take about two seconds on Google to find my address. The address half of you have already because you've sent gifts to Tori (and me). So because I am NOT anonymous here, I have to be vague about my recovery because while there aren't any "rules" per say, there are certain--oh, let's call them traditions--that I need to honor. And one of them is not mentioning by name the organizations (I go to more than one!) that help me stay sane and sober. Admittedly, the line is painfully thin, but it's one I try hard not to cross (and I ask you not to do so in the comments either; I've edited a couple of comments in the past--with the writer's permission--for just that reason. Also, I do NOT have to be vague in private emails as that is between two individuals).

So, anyway, I was listening to the speaker this morning while feeling all my usual feelings about God (you know, how God's an asshole, that sort of thing). The speaker is someone I like because she reminds me of, well, me--she has to fight her instincts to take over and be in charge of everything. But I didn't know that she is also a holocaust survivor. When I think about how easily my faith in God was shattered by losing the twins, fuck--I've got NOTHING on the faith-shaking that a holocaust survivor must suffer. As she talked about how she's managed to come back to God--trusting that God will take care of her addict son, and that she can't--I found myself thinking about how much more open I am to having God in my life than I was three years ago. While both infertility and pregnancy loss may have turned me away from God, I am more willing then ever to turn to a higher power today.

How does this relate to BlogHer? Well, I don't think I realized this until I heard this woman speaking today, but I did a classic "giving it to God" step before getting on the plane. I managed to leave several things at home that I didn't need to bring to BlogHer: my insecurities, my self-centered fear, my combativeness and defensiveness, and most of all, my jabbering fucking mouth and it's remarkable ability to lead me down the road of self-sabotage.

Before I left, I said to both Charlie and Sarah that no matter what, I did NOT want to come back from the BlogHer convention as the "one" who said that "thing" that everyone is blogging about. Put me in a room of women--women thinner than I am, prettier than I am, better writers than I am--and toss in a bunch of those women drinking alcohol while I can't and just like that, you have a recipe for angry, defensive Cecily. The Cecily that makes "hilarious" viscous and snarky comments to--and about--other people. I so much wanted to work on practicing "restraint of pen and tongue" while I was there. Because I can be a damn fool, people, and I can torpedo my own goals without breaking a sweat (ask me sometime about the wonderful blogger who's feelings I hurt back in 2004 and stopped talking to me. I still miss emailing her, thanks to my stupidity at the time. And my pain. But mostly my stupidity).

As a result, I was able to spot Stephanie Klein (the other closing keynote speaker besides Dooce) and say hello, engage her in conversation, and LISTEN to what she had to say to me (OK, Sarah spotted her, but I did the rest). Because she talked to me about staying open--not reaching toward things so much as letting them find you--I was able to hear what folks were saying during the panels and glean a possible new career path. I got to meet Stephanie as she is--a funny, irreverent mom of twins that has dealt with some serious shit (how she survived her son's brain surgery is beyond me) and not spend the whole time thinking stupid things like "she's so famous, why is she talking to me?" and "Oh my God, they're making a TV show out of her book that came out of her blog" and "damn, her hair is awesome, I'm so jealous" (OK, maybe I did think that one). We were able to just talk about mothering, and writing, and how nerve wracking new people and gatherings like BlogHer can be. AND she was sweet to Sarah about photography too. AND SHE'S TOTALLY FUCKING SUPER FAMOUS!

I don't want to admit it, but it's because of a higher power that I got jack shit out of this conference, never mind the treasure trove of awesomeness that I did (yeah, BlogHer folks--I just called the conference a TREASURE TROVE OF AWESOMENESS because I am that good with words). Even though I still don't trust God particularly, I am at least able to set aside my resentment against God long even to use the spiritual tools I've learned in recovery and take what I need from an event like BlogHer and leave the rest.

So what did I gain by leaving all that shit behind? Well, I didn't spend a whole lot of time feeling bad about the parties I didn't get invited to (I know they were happening, because people would mention them all the time but then get vague on the "where" and "when"; special thanks to The Bloggess who mentioned just that thing in her blog before the conference). I was able to sit at the Friday night keynote and actually listen to all the readers without feeling like I should have been on the stage (oh yes, I AM that kind of asshole); and I'm so grateful about that because I have a new blogging hero; Lesbian Dad read this piece during that keynote and it made me weep--not just because of the content but because it's such damned fine writing (further proof to me that the best memoir writing in the world is happening right now in blogs, damn it). I was able to walk up to people like Alice and hand them a napkin and introduce myself, without worrying a lot about rejection (almost every single person I met was generous to a fault; there is only one blogger that was rude to me and I think she was just tired and NO I will NOT tell you who because I am becoming a better person, one that does not gossip--much). I was able to meet Amy and be shocked that not only was she nice, but she was excited to see ME--and even better, I was able to not gloat too much about that fact (OK, maybe just a little, but only to Sarah).

In other words, by only the grace of something bigger than me, I was able to NOT BE AN ASSHOLE AND ENJOY MYSELF. And you may think that's not unusual, but seriously? It totally is.

Many of you asked about the final keynote with Dooce and Stephanie Klein. It was highly entertaining--the theme was "Living the Truman Show" and they both talked about what it's like to live life so publicly on the web. Dooce mentioned that she only blogs about 10% of her life, which surprises me because I don't think that was true when I first started reading her blog five years ago. But I understand why--she gets death threats constantly, threats to her family, her dogs, her home--I can't imagine. I'd want to retreat a bit too. I didn't hear everything said because I ended up explaining to about half our table who "this Dooce person" was (yes, there are bloggers that have never read her blog--weird, huh?) and then who "this Stephanie person" was. They really had no idea. Eventually they started google-ing and I was able to listen. For a long, long time the person wielding the audience mic was standing right next to me and I tried, desperately, to come up with something to say. But everything I thought of was all "look at me and read my blog and please for the love of fucking God LINK TO ME SO I GET FAMOUS" so, after wise council from Sarah, I kept my mouth SHUT. NOT THAT THE OTHER BLOGGERS ASKING QUESTIONS WERE SAYING THAT. It's just what would have come out of MY mouth.

There was a kerfuffle that was a bit odd on all counts. I don't want to write about it because I felt about it one way initially and now feel completely differently (my discomfort with people who are or appear drunk because of my own alcoholism colored my initial impression; I'm not claiming anyone ELSE is a drunk, just that I am. Why it makes me uncomfortable, I don't know--it's not like I can "catch" alcoholism, a disease I already fucking have). If you want to read a fair approximation of my feelings about it (although I'm not quite as hard on Dooce as she is), check out Gwendomama (who was totally awesome all weekend rocking the microphone at the panels and was super sweet to me and OH MY GOD I can't believe she's able to do all that after losing a 13-month-old son).

All in all, that weirdness was NOTHING compared to the bizarre and moderately sexist closing reception which was held at MACY'S. Seriously. Like, hey! You're women! You'll buy ridiculously expensive ugly bags/shoes/lingerie just because we shove you wall-to-wall in those departments and get you drunk (the first floor--bags--also offered NO non-alcoholic alternatives. The fermented lemonade they offered was BOOZY. I was mad about that for two hours because I was SO FUCKING THIRSTY). That party, my friends, was truly bizarre. Blessedly, the final portion of the party was in the furniture section so that we finally got to sit the fuck down. Proof of me doing just that is in the final photo on I Am Bossy's entry about the party (thanks, Sheri, for the heads up about the photo).

But moving away from the final keynote, and back to what I was talking about (me! I was talking about me!), I guess what I'm saying is that with each passing day since I lost the boys, I'm finding it easier and easier to be at peace with God. I may never trust God directly, but I do trust the people that the universe puts in my path. And those folks have taught me more about setting the bad stuff aside and plunging forward than I ever dreamed possible. Because of that grace, BlogHer was wonderful for me. Because of that openness, I feel much less scared about the future. Because of that love, I was able to feel joy and happiness throughout. What more could a person ask for?

Promotion

So, I know I just won't shut the hell up about BlogHer, but I need your advice.

I want to have something to hand out to people who don't know me or my blog at the convention. The point of my going is to promote the shit out of myself, so I need something funny and memorable. I've checked out a gazillion sites that offer candy and pens that I could imprint with my blog name, but frankly, they are waaaaaaay to pricey, even for things like crappy buttermints (mmmmmm... buttermints). So I figure, hey, I've got a printer and two hands, I can make something myself!

Except. Yeah. Um, except that I have a crafty moment about once every ten years and my last moment was used up making the box for cards at Sarah's wedding.

In a dream world, I would hand out little chocolate candies in the shape of all things infertility and baby oriented; you know, chocolate syringes full of "progesterone", little chocolate blastocysts, maybe little chocolate sippy cups. Because, hey, chocolate is the bomb, and who wouldn't remember a chocolate blastocyst? And sippy cups are practically synonymous to mommy blogging at this point.

But alas, I do not live in said dream world. Nor do I have boatloads of money. I thought maybe small bags of m&m's with a label slapped on them, but that is neither creative nor really reflective of me or my blog. Unless the bags of m&m's were covered with the words motherfucker or cocksucker. And again, that gets pricey.

So: I know a bunch of you are crafty motherfuckers. Heh. Any ideas? You know, that I could actually DO maybe with Sarah or Charlie's help (hey guys! wanna help me make 500 little things?). Pretty please? :) I will bribe you with this awesome photo of Tori (taken by Charlie and processed by me). More photos are in the set.

The Fear That Holds Me Back

Thank you all so much for sharing writing ideas. I feel very energized and jazzed up about blogging again. Amazing, how little it took, no?

Before I get into this entry, however, I need to take a moment to publicly thank the most awesome Lia. Many of you who watched the movie for Tori's second birthday probably remember this cute shot of Tori in her adorable birthday hat:

Lia was kind enough to make the hat for Tori, which she loved, insisting on wearing it every single day EXCEPT her actual birthday (in her defense, it was hot as fucking hell on the actual day). Anyway, Lia is the proprietor of the awesome Etsy shop Bellybutton Industries, and makes the hats professionally. So thank you, Lia, and be sure to visit her site (which she did NOT ask me to link to, but how could I not? How cute is that dang hat?).

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So Karen and Charlise both asked me what I'm afraid of. The short and simple answer is: EVERYTHING. Remember that scene in the Charlie Brown Christmas special when Lucy diagnoses Charlie Brown with Pantophobia? And he yells, "THAT'S IT!" and he bowls her out of her chair? Yeah. Kind of like that.

I do have some specific fears. I'm afraid that Charlie will leave me (because all men leave); worse, I have a fear that he won't (meaning not all men are the same). I'm desperately afraid that Tori will get sick and taken away from me.  I'm afraid I'm always going to feel awful physically and have headaches. I'm afraid I will always be hugely fat, and that I will get sick from it. I'm afraid that I will always not have enough money. I'm afraid that the money problems plaguing those I love is going to hurt them. I have tons of fears like that.

But as an alcoholic, my true fears are all very self-centered. For instance, I do not spend a great deal of time being afraid of war in the Middle East. I do, however, freak the fuck out when I have to deal with people--will they like me? Will they hate me? Will I say the wrong thing? What if I don't say the RIGHT thing (because I always have to be the one saying just the right thing, making everyone laugh)? Am I too fat?

According to a highly reliable source (one of my recovery books), alcoholics are absolutely plagued with self-centered fears: the fear that we won't get what we want or need, or that we will lose what we already have. This is the main reason I drank and used drugs, and the heart of everything I have to work on in myself today as a sober woman.

But occasionally more obvious fears rise to the surface.

The meeting I went to this morning had an awesome speaker. She talked about fear, and about faith, and asked us to consider what fear is holding us back, right this minute, and keeping us from being our authentic selves. As often happens to me in meetings, I felt punched in the gut, and began to tear up. Because right this minute, I have a huge fear staring me in the face, and I've danced around it but have not confronted it directly.

I am terrified to move forward as a writer.

I know it seems stupid. Here I am, writing this blog every day, constantly talking about taking the next best step in my writing career (you have no idea how hard it is for me to claim that writing is my "career"). But it is a huge leap to go from being a stay-at-home mother who does a bit of writing on the side to pay the bills to declaring myself a capital "W" Writer.

Here is the truth: I want to write a book. I have a book in me. I really do.

You have no idea how hard it is to type those words or say them out loud. So many of you have written to me to say, you should write a book! And I write back, I don't know what I'd write about! That is a stupid non-response. I know what I want to write about. I want to write about how my fractured and twisted spirituality has helped and healed me throughout my life, including infertility and sobriety. I want to be the infertile Anne Lamott. I know this. I know this to my bones. But admitting it out loud scares the crap out of me.

This fear doesn't just hold me back on writing a book. It keeps me from getting new blogging gigs or freelance writing jobs. I know when I send out my resume and my queries that editors can absolutely HEAR that fear in my voice. They know that I don't believe I am a Writer, and they want to hire Writers, not dabblers. So I don't get the gigs. Over and over this has happened to me in the last year. And the one small gig I managed to get--at Type-A Mom--Jenn correctly pointed out that I hold back there; I'm afraid to let my true personality shine through on those posts. Fear holds me back, yet again.

I realized this spring that I needed to do something because I know my main freelance client--the one that has made this last year at home possible--is going to go away. By the end of the year at the latest, possible sooner. This, of course, is why I decided I needed to go to BlogHer. At BlogHer, I would have the chance to meet many of the upper echelon Bloggers, and possibly meet some editors and other industry professionals.

I wrote yesterday about how scared I am of going to BlogHer, how I worry that no one will like me or talk to me. But that's not the real fear--honestly, I can never go anywhere without people talking to me, and I am sure BlogHer will be no different. The real fear is that I know I don't believe I am a Writer, and all those people I hope to meet will know it.

Blessedly, I realized this now, and not a week after coming back from San Francisco (how much would that suck?). I have some time to work on it. So I am going to finally try to believe the things you folks say to me on a daily basis. I am going to try to embrace myself as a Writer.

The truth is, (big breath) I AM a good writer.

Once in a while, I write something great, which means that I am sometimes a GREAT writer.

(hand hovering over the delete key)

I have something to say. I am good at putting words together.

Damn it, I am a WRITER. And from now on? I'm going to fucking start acting like it.

Whew.

I feel better.

So tell me; what fear is holding you back today? What is keeping you from moving forward?

Monday, Monday

It's Monday morning. Charlie let me sleep in, yet I feel exhausted. I have so much to do. I need to write thank you cards for Tori's birthday, I have loads of articles to write, my house is a mess again... and I want desperately to set all of that aside and go out and find my blogging mojo.

I don't know what's going on, folks. But I just seem to have lost my zing. Perhaps it's the Metformin having mood stabilizing effects. Maybe it's the end of the Democratic Presidential nominee craziness. Maybe it's just summer and spending so much time swimming with Tori is causing me to have sun-induced brain damage (I swear, I spend so much time smiling at the pool watching Tori having fun in the water that my face actually hurts on a daily basis).

But my blog skills are GONE.

What little I have keeps getting expended over at Type-A Mom (my latest article about struggling to find time to blog is up! Please read and offer your suggestions, if ya would). Or in the articles I write for work. Or in the witty tales I tell Charlie (not).

I find myself feeling like I have nothing to say. Me! The girl that can never shut up!

Maybe part of it is BlogHer. I'm nervous about going to this convention. I'm scared to meet people and socialize. I'm scared to try to really take the next leap and commit to being a capital W Writer. I'm scared that there will be all these bloggers there who will all say, "Oh, you're THAT Cecily" and roll their eyes.

OK--perhaps there is no mood stabilization going on at all. Heh.

Anyway, I guess I'm just saying all of this to apologize for this blog sucking of late.

OOOOH! I have an idea!

Why don't we do that ol' favorite thing--you know the one. Heh. You know, where I ask you to what you want me to write about! It's been at least a year since we've done that, right?

So! Fire away. Give me a topic. I will write about it. Even the ones that scare me. M'kay? Or should I say, pleeeeeeaaaaaaaassssse? Cause I'm running on empty over here. :)

Bloggity Blogging Blogness

So to practice for BlogHer, I went with Sarah to a blogger gathering here in Philly called Tequilacon. It was full of bloggers I don't know (with one exception--and I finally found my link to her blog). I worked hard to chat with folks, but man--in my old age, it has gotten SO HARD to schmooze like I used to. I ended up spending most of the evening playing with the temporary tattoos they had out (because I need MORE tattoos, obviously) and then chatting with this guy for a long time, who was rather sweet but looked! *edit* much younger to me then his 36 years. Then I had an interesting conversation with this guy, who I liked a lot (and has an adorable boy). But other than that, I mostly said hello to everyone and didn't manage to engage in a conversation with them. Part of that was because everyone was very busy getting drunk (fun for this recovering alcoholic) and part of it was because everyone knew each other and was busy hanging out. **edited to add: please don't think I'm down on Tequilacon! They were a sweet bunch of folks and were all nice to me, I just didn't have the energy to engage people who were obviously there to see people other than me.**

One thing that was interesting was that there were not very many "mommy" bloggers there, and since I have Mommy Blogging on the brain thanks to my new gig (first post is up at Type-A Mom!), I was on the lookout. I mentioned to a few folks that I was planning to go to BlogHer (most had heard of it, but didn't know much about it) and when I said that Heather Armstrong, better known as Dooce, is the keynote speaker, the most interesting thing happened: doors slammed in their eyes. One person told me, flat out, "You won't find any Dooce fans here."

Why? Maybe because in some circles (**edited to add: not necessarily Tequilacon folks!**) Mommy Blogging is often sneered at, and looked down on, by lots of other types of bloggers.

Heather's blog was one of the first I read (the first three were Dooce, Julie, and Getupgrrl) and yeah, I'm still a fan of hers. Plus, I am completely envious of her--I'd also love to support my entire family with this little blog of mine. And buy a new house and travel, like she does. But her fame comes with a downside, and part of it is this flat out hatred from some bloggers, and some of the stuff she recently addressed in her latest letter to her daughter (you know, the monthly letter idea I shamelessly stole from her).

This blog, like most of the blogs I read in the early days, started as an infertility blog. Many bloggers that I read devotedly, including Getupgrrl, vanished after they had children. Or they went password protected, or they use fake names for their kids, and many never, ever, ever post photos of their kids.

But then there are a handful like me (and like Heather) who don't blog anonymously, and post photos of their kids, and write post after post about their kids and what they are doing. Is this honest, or exploitative? Am I being unsafe and putting Tori at risk?

I was anonymous (although using my real first name) for the first two years I had this blog. It wasn't until I lost the twins and started getting some press coverage that I realized it was futile to continue to blog without discussing where I live and protecting my last name. Do I worry about that? Sure. If pro-life radicals wanted to make trouble for me, they could fairly easily find my house and, I don't know, picket it or something (not that it would be worth their while; I live in a quiet neighborhood and no one would really notice or care).

But am I exploiting Tori by writing about her here? Will she be damaged by the words I write in my blog about her? I'll admit this--I work hard to keep the stuff that drives me crazy about Tori to a minimum on here. I remember reading Dooce during Leta's (Leta being Heather's daughter) "screaming years" and wincing sometimes at the stuff she wrote about Leta. But now that Tori is almost two and screaming a bit herself, I begin to understand why she wrote about it and, in fact, derive comfort from knowing I'm not alone in coping with a screaming kid.

Just like Heather says in her latest entry.

Sure, I have ads, and I'd like more ad revenue (when I renamed my blog, I lost about 2/3 of the revenue I was earning because I broke a lot of old links, sadly. Someday I'll fix them all, like when Tori goes off to college and I have TIME). Sure, I'm using this little blog about my life and my family as a launching post to other writing gigs.

But I'm a WRITER. I've been a writer for many, many years, long before I ever blogged. But while my handful of published poems landed in tiny literary journals, more people read my words on the Internet in an hour than read all of the poems I published. So I try to write well, and about interesting things, and I work hard to stay connected to the people that are kind enough to read my blog (hey, without you guys, I'm nothing).

How do I keep myself and Tori safe? Well, I check my stats daily and watch who is linking to me. I have Google Alerts set to key phrases to make sure no one is inappropriately linking to photos (I do the same thing with the photos on Flickr). What else can I do? No, seriously, what else?

What do you think? Is Mommy Blogging dangerous and exploitative? I'll be writing more about this from a different angle over at Type-A Mom later this week, so I'm really interested in your opinions, good and bad.

But I'll tell you this; after you all stuck with me through my IVF cycle, the loss of my boys, and the birth of this glorious miracle that is currently using markers to draw on my legs, I simply cannot imagine walking away from you and your support and not letting you know how the story is turning out. Those bloggers that stopped writing after they had their kids? I miss them, terribly, every day and frankly, I feel somewhat robbed by their decision to stop sharing their lives after they have kids. So I'm still here, still writing, and I guess that makes me officially a Mommy Blogger (although Sarah insists I'm not). And I'm not going anywhere. You all are stuck with me. So are the folks at Drexel University's Week of Writers, where I'm speaking about blogging at 3pm today. Hope they are as kind to me as you are. :)

It's All Good

So, have you all heard of Type-A Mom? Well, if not, you better start to visit that site because guess who their new "mommy editor" about Mommy Blogging is?

Um, that would be me. :)

Yes, my first "pro" blogging job! Course, I don't really get paid for it (well, ad revenue) but I do get experience and a notch on my belt. So that's great. I'm thrilled. Plus it will be a fun topic to explore, something I don't really get to do here (I know I could, but I haven't yet). Anyway.

Thanks for the kind words about the "cabin," although I'm not sure how I let you folks think it was vacation. I was working, trust me! Besides the trips to Wal-Mart and thrift stores, I was trying to get some of my normal work in between chasing Tori around the trailer. Luckily, she slept like a dream up there so we got more done than we expected. We still have to furnish the living room, but what can you do? I can't make a nice used couch simply appear. Sadly.

I wish I had something more profound to say, but I have a migraine creeping in (but I had two days migraine free!). So go explore the articles at Type-A Mom and let me know what you think, m'kay?

Way To Feel Old

Thank you all so much for the kind wishes about the reading. I have to say, it went much better than I anticipated. Sadly, even with all my shameless self-promotion we were only able to produce an entourage of four--Sarah, of course (cause I made her come), our friend Siobhan, Kate (the young woman who replaced me at my job) and one lone blog reader (Dana, you rock!). Luckily, the way they set up the reading a whole group of people trying to eat dinner in peace were trapped into listening to us read. I will confess they actually looked like they enjoyed themselves, so it is possible they were there on purpose. Also, the magazine we read for, The Painted Bride Quarterly, seems to have about a dozen people working for it so that also helped give us warm bodies to read to. All in all, it was a good night--even if almost everyone we read to (we were very close to the University of Pennsylvania campus) was about twenty years old.

Sarah took lots of video, but the light was bad and a lot of it didn't turn out all that great, so you'll have to forgive the poor quality. I tried to improve the brightness a bit so it's kind of grainy, but it's the best I can do. Also, it was in a restaurant/bar type place so the audio is filled with clanks and bangs. Bonus: I had no idea that I stood with my arm at my side so awkwardly, and I totally messed up the last line of my poem. Oh well. Additionally, you all now have proof of how incredibly short I am: Charlie and I are both standing at the same microphone, set at the same height. Heh.

This is the first time using Flickr video, so let me know if you have any problems. Here is a poem by me called Furrows, my "signature" poem, probably the best poem I've ever written. The poem Charlie is reading is called The Message. Remember--you guys asked for this. Heh. Enjoy!

Stage Fright

Only time for a short post today. I'm madly trying to prepare myself for tonight's reading:

And yes, that was more shameless self promotion. Heh.

Truth be told, though, I am actually a nervous wreck. Thirteen or fourteen years ago, I gave readings at least once a month if not more often. Even ten years ago I read several times a year. But in the last five years I think I've read maybe three times at most. I wasn't all that worried about this reading until a Flickr friend posted some clips of the place I'm reading on his photostream which showed that the place we're performing is actually not a nice little coffee house but a club, and frankly, I am way too old and not nearly hip enough to be going to any damned clubs. So now I'm nervous and feeling sorry for myself. Heh.

For those that asked, I will bring the video camera (which makes me EVEN MORE NERVOUS) and give it to Sarah (who I have bullied into coming) and ask her to tape part of the night and then I will post it here, I promise. Probably just the poems part, though. I'm reading some blog entries, although I am not completely sure which ones yet. The ones I'm considering are here, here, and here  (I will definitely be reading the last one, I'm just not sure which of the first two I will choose). I'll also be reading something else that is not on the blog, plus a few poems. Not that any of you care. I'm just soothing myself here.

I'm sure I'll be just fine once I get started. But my tummy hurts now. Sigh. Now, what to wear...

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I know you are all wondering how I'm going to vote today. Lots of you have asked. Truth be told, I am still not 100% sure about anything EXCEPT that I will be voting. Right now, I'm about 75% in Obama's camp. Hillary has made me gag several times in the last few weeks (seriously, that "I first felt the touch of the Lord" speech made me want to throw up, not to mention the "my grandpappy taught me to shoot" bullshit), and that lying about Bosnia thing is pretty gross. But I didn't think Obama handled the attacks at the debate well (although I thought the debate was stupid, and I can hardly look at Charles Gibson now), and I have the same worries about him. But Hillary and Bill call our house about six times a day. SIX TIMES. That alone might be enough to make me vote for Obama. Plus, watching Hillary speak so easily of obliterating Iran--not because I think she'd actually do it, but because I think she'd say anything for votes--gave me chills. Also, Hillary has unleashed a slew of nasty, nasty negative ads against Obama here and they really stand out because he hasn't released a single negative ad about her--something I really respect him for (there have been a couple negative Hillary ads, but not by Obama).

But honestly, I won't know for sure what I'll do until I'm standing in the booth, holding up the line--to quote my buddy Jo. It's a tough year.  Mostly? I am just so fucking glad that today is the primary so that I don't have to see any more goddamned political ads for a while. THANK GOD.

Blog Business

I'm still feeling a bit under the blogging weather (so to speak) due to the bad anniversary, but I didn't want to have a Monday without some kind of post, so I thought I would take care of some business.

First of all, the new blog design and title will be revealed on November 1st--as long as we can get the design done in time (we being me and the awesome Aitch. OK, it's really all her). I am going to participate, again, in NaBloPoMo this year, which means I shall be posting EVERY SINGLE DAY in November. Yup. Every day. Yikes.

So I know you are eager to know the new blog title, and if you can't wait until Thursday, well, go count the votes. Heh.

Secondly, you may have noticed the new fancy flash ads that have appeared over in the right hand column. These ads are from the BlogHer Ad Network, and dudes--these guys actually pay pretty well. So you can feel good about clicking on those ads. Really. Cause you will be putting food in Tori's mouth, or at least helping my pay for our health benefits (right now it looks like I'm on track to actually earn enough from them to at least pay for my health insurance each month, and that's a huge help). Special thanks to Amanda for pointing me in the BlogHer Ads direction--you rock, girlie! Also, if you see the link in that ad column to take the survey (it says, "If you love this blogger, take this survey!") please do! That way the ads are more likely to be about something you are interested in.

The last thing I want to discuss is a bit more complicated. I'm working with a great marketing guru who is helping me figure out how to get my name out there, both connected to this blog and to my professional writing. I really want to make this freelance writing thing pay off, and I can't just sit on my ass blogging and hope that fame and fortune (or even enough work to pay my bills) is somehow going to manage to find me. So I might post an occasional entry about how my professional writing career is going, and other exciting updates such as the fact that something I wrote for a client may end up in USA Today which would be totally AWESOME.

I'm also going to begin blogging on my professional site, which you may not find all that interesting but I'm going to beg you to check out now and again anyway. I'll probably update there once a week or so, just to keep the content fresh and to help increase my business.

When I was discussing all of this with my marketing dude, I had to remind him that while McDonald's (metaphor for me) may now sell salads (blogging about my business stuff), it's ain't gonna stop selling burgers (blogging about the stuff I usually blog about). So rest assured--while this may all sound like I'm selling out (and I am, a little bit--I know), my primary goal for this blog hasn't changed all that much. I just want to write better and more interesting stuff, and I also want to get paid enough to stay home with Tori while I do it.

So bear with me, will you?

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Since I'm going to be writing every day in November, now is the time to suggest topics! What would you like to see me write about? Come on, don't be shy! Spill it. If you want to be anonymous, just put a fake name and fake email address into the comments section (you don't need to post a URL) and tell me. If I'm really going to blog every day for thirty days, I'll need all the suggestions I can get! Thanks!
 

Keyboard at the Crossroads

My maternal grandmother went off to college at the age of 17. Her roommate, a much more mature woman of 20, was named Lucy Johnston Sypher. Ms. Sypher went on to write four widely read (at least by me) children's books about growing up in Wales, North Dakota. When I was little, Ms. Sypher gave me a subscription to a new magazine for children called Cricket Magazine. Ms. Sypher had excerpts from her books published by Cricket, and I adored the magazine so much that at Girl Scout camp one summer I was nicknamed Cricket by my troop.

Cricket Magazine has changed; it's now four-color and glossy (back then it was a tiny black and white thing). But it was such a great format for budding readers; if words or concepts were complicated, the page edges where lined with drawings of little bugs that both told their own story but also would give definitions and explanations about details of the print story. They also featured poetry, both for kids and by kids. Each month they had a poetry contest.

I was six years old the first time I wrote two poems that I wanted to submit to the magazine. I don't remember much, except that they were supposed to be on the theme of magic and I wrote about the mountains in Albuquerque that were a stony purple-gray by day but turned a flaming pink when the sun went down. I don't remember if I actually ever submitted the poems, but it was then that I was bitten by the writing bug.

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I kept putting pen to paper. In sixth grade, I won a poetry contest with the following poem:

I am a cat, stalking a bird.

I am a bird, fleeing from a cat.

I am a tree, watching it all.

I am fortune for the cat.

I am death for the bird.

The prize wasn't much--I think it was published in some school journal or something. But I'll never forget my teachers face when she read the poem. She was moved and, most importantly, impressed.

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In high school, my poetry sucked. It was filled with typical teenage angst and drama, and lovelorn soppy bullshit. But I wrote, and wrote, and wrote. I still have a lot of those poems.

The one thing I didn't do was read much poetry. I read a lot of fiction that impressed me greatly, like The Color Purple which was actually forbidden at my school but my teacher slipped me on the side in a desperate attempt to get me more involved with school. Because of course, alcohol and boys had me very distracted, and I was no longer interested in much else.

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I was still writing teen-like love poetry when I first met Charlie. He saw me sitting at the bar writing (at 19, I was already getting into bars quite easily), and came over and struck up a conversation. He'd just begun to write as well in the Bukowski style and was already getting poems published. When we met up again, he read my poetry politely but was more interested in "dating" me than reading my work. We did go out a couple of times but it was clear it wasn't going to work out.

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Years later, when Charlie and I did become a couple, poetry was at the heart of our relationship. Charlie and I began going to poetry readings (and hosting one) and for the first time I became exposed to a wide range of poets and poetry. I began reading poetry, and, naturally, my work began to improve. I became deeply invested in the poetry scene and I wrote constantly, often four or five new poems a week.

But with the rise of poetry in my life came the rise of alcohol, the introduction of drugs, and then all of a sudden it wasn't cool anymore. I was sticking needles in my arm, contemplating fucking a dealer so I could keep getting my drugs, and then BAM! I overdosed, got sober, and the words stopped coming.

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It took a year of sobriety for me to clear up enough to write again. The good news was the poems were much better--tighter, concise, and tough. I loved them. But they came rarely, and as we became less interested in being part of a poetry scene and more interested in growing the fuck up, they stopped coming completely.

________________________________

Many years later, we were beginning to think about starting a family. I was still reading extensively (I was working for a bookstore), and I finally began reading memoirs. First I read the memoir by Anne Sexton's daughter (Anne Sexton being a favorite poet at the time). Then I discovered Anne Lamott, who is still my writing hero. Ms. Lamott was sober, struggling with politics and God, and I adored her writing. Luckily, at the same time I was also working with author Rachel Simon, who became my mentor in many ways (she worked for the same bookstore at a different branch). Rachel took the time to help me perfect my writing and taught me a great deal about choosing words carefully, and how to say exactly what I meant.

Not much later, I discovered blogs. I was reading a lot at various forums here, and since I knew we were dealing with a male factor issue I frequently popped in to the "donor sperm" forum (although we didn't end up using donor sperm). Someone there posted a link to Dooce, Grrl, and Julie (I am forever grateful to that person).

I read all three of their blogs avidly, and went back through their entire archives (at that point, they weren't that old--Julie had only started blogging about six months before I found her). This led me to Danae (gone), and Karen (Naked Ovary, now defunct) and many others like Tertia.

We were just launching into our first IVF cycle, and I began sending funny emails to my friends updating them with the latest steps in the process. It was already clear that bloggers were effecting my writing style, and I finally emailed Julie and asked her how to do this blogging thing. She kindly showed me the ropes, and viola! My first entry appeared.

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When I started this blog, my intentions were simple: share what was going on and try to become part of this amazing community of bitter and funny women that were sharing my struggle.

But something else happened during the last three and a half years: I became--more fully and completely than I had ever been before--a writer. I found my voice. I found the way I wanted to write, what I was best at writing, and was able to tell people with confidence that I was a writer. I stopped trying to write poetry (although I joined the editorial board of a local poetry magazine to keep my hand in) and focused on writing the personal essays that became my best blog entries.

Since Tori was a few months old, I've floundered here. Without a current election, an impending FET cycle, or impending birth, I didn't know what to write about. I've tried to keep the blog relevant, and I am so honored and grateful that you all keep reading. I didn't want to walk away, as so many of my favorite bloggers did after they had kids. I was--and am--committed to this blog.

But. Of course there is a but; there always is, right?

But as a writer, I am at a crossroads. I know what I want to write, and I've been hoping to get a paid blogging gig to give me the forum to do it, leaving this blog as it has been--a blog of personal meanderings. But that clearly isn't going to happen anytime soon, so that leaves me with a choice.

Do I keep this blog as it is, or do I take this opportunity to try my hand at some writing that not everyone that reads here will enjoy? Stuff that is more topical, and maybe a little less personal--still in my voice, but not as much blog-like. More essay-like.

I timidly suggested something like this months ago and was deluged with emails and comments begging me to "not change a thing." But I've changed. My life has changed. This blog has changed, and not in a good way--at least not in a way I'm proud of.

So, at the risk of offending some of you, I am going to make some changes 'round these parts. I'm going to write about less "inside" stuff, and tackle more "outside" stuff. Stuff like body images issues, and being a fat girl in America. Politics. Books and movies. Issues about choice, infertility, and other medical stuff. Of course parenting (obviously) and issues surrounding parenting.

There will still be plenty of Tori, and, I'm sure, a lot of me. But as a writer, I need to challenge myself, and I need to take the next step down the path to being a professional, capital W, Writer.

Bear with me.