Real life & screaming babies & writing more

May 2, 2015

A friend once told me that what readers really want to read from writers is the real stuff. The real life.

I read Carry On, Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton a couple months ago, recommended it to my sister-in-law, and then said YES! when she realized that Glennon had an event in Des Moines coming up and asked if I wanted to attend.

I road-tripped the three hours north with the girls, arriving in tact albeit a little frayed around the edges.

Let’s just say they decided to have screaming contests. My kids did. Screaming contests while I was still in the car, you know, trying to drive. For several hours on end. It was the best.

Anyway, my parents watched the girlies the next day when we attended the event. I ate a lunch that someone else made on a plate that someone else would wash afterwards, including chocolate cake and hot black coffee. And 1200 of us attendees ate and listened to Glennon speak and I took frantic notes in my journal like I just didn’t careĀ and the entire event raised money and awareness for a charity that saves babies.

It was bliss, is what I’m saying.

I’ve read Glennon’s book, obviously, and I’ve read quite a bit of content on her blog, but seeing her in person was still a feast for my mama soul and writer soul and just my Soul all around. I soaked her in. And I let her words inspire me. Remind me. Because I had been inspired when I read her book, but we all know that inspiration without immediate action is just entertainment.

She talked about many subjects, but one that is still swirling around my head four days later is about the little voice in our head. The one that urges you to do things, sometimes scary, vulnerable things. The one that we often ignore. At least I do.

I believe that that voice is God, or at least something related to God, but whether you share that belief, or consider your voice something that comes from the universe or your own sub-conscious or the burrito you ate for lunch, I’m fairly certain it would behoove us all to listen to it.

Be still, Glennon said. Be still and listen.

Listen to your voice.

And then act.

I’ve been feeling for weeks that I need to do more writing. The narrator in me is constantly writing things, but I’m losing them. They aren’t being recorded and so piff they’re gone. I am convincing myself that the reason I’m not really writing much right now is because a) I have tiny babies and TIRED, b) when/if I dedicate a few minutes every day to work, it should be immediate income-producing work, and writing about my day or my feelings or my whatever is not that, c) TIRED, d) writing is scary, because what if people read it?, and e) I forgot what e was because TIRED.

Those are all good reasons to be ignoring the voice in my head. Strong, valid reasons. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

Also, I can ignore the voice easier if I just stay busy. Have one minute when both girls are occupied happily in the back yard? Do the dishes, Annie! Figure out what we should make for dinner tomorrow night! Write that check and get it into the mail! Finish earmarking that catalog because your home office probably needs a desk and you need to pick one!

Be still, Glennon said.

So I’m trying. I’m trying to try.

Write more, Annie, the voice says. About real life. Don’t overthink it.

So I’m going to.



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