Decisions, Decisions

Can anyone explain to me why it is that the decisions that are hardest to make--cripplingly, mind-meltingly, curl-up-in-a-ball-and-weep-ingly hard--are always the little ones?

I flipped a coin to decide where to go to college (no, literally). I don't think I ever even consciously chose a career path. And I regularly decide to drastically switch my haircut--we're talking mid-back to pixie--based on a single morning of "meuh" in the mirror.

That might sound less momentous than the first two, but I think the ladies are picking up what I'm throwing down there.

I can make major decisions with (apparently frightening) ease, but the little ones? I am completely and utterly un-womanned by them.

Last night's decision trauma: business cards.

I didn't even NEED new business cards. I currently have four sets: one for my writing; one for my day job; one for the day job BEFORE this one (which, frankly, I should just recycle); and one for a place I used to write for that disappeared, and whose remnants I'm too sentimental to abandon totally.

But I kind of hate the "for my writing" set, and OHMYGODASALE was happening, so clearly I needed to pull the trigger on this immediately.

By "immediately," I mean "it took me hours--seriously, hours--and the input of multiple people to figure this out."

Do I like the quirky image I actually like, or should I go with something simple that I find boring (but maybe it's more elegant)? Heavy weight, regular weight (cheaper!), or weird (but maybe more memorable? but maybe more lose-able?) mini-cards? Is my title "writer," or "author," or "freelance writer," or "humorist," or some Frankenstein's monster of all of those, sutured together with ampersands?

HOW  DO I SPELL MY LAST NAME??

I wound up with...something. I purchased something.

But was it right? WAS IT?

More Proof I'm a Bad Person

It's not a secret that I'm a terrible human being. I cringe when I spot a baby at my airport gate, I regularly don't give change to panhandlers even when I have it to spare, and I tend to side with the Real Housewives the rest of the internets think are "mean" (because they're the SMART ones, dammit). I also instantly despise people who walk slowly and anyone with a "COEXIST!" sticker on his or her car.

Yup, I hate you.

But this post isn't about THOSE reasons, it's about a writing-way in which I'm terrible: I secretly hate all the inspirational support that makes the rounds of every writing community, all the time. 

On the one hand, it's nice to know that other authors got rejected...often. It's a good reminder to be told not to compare your own trajectory to anyone else's, if for no other reason than it serves no positive purpose whatsoever. And yes, sure, I probably should "celebrate all the small wins" more than I do. 

But a dark buried little nugget of me (which actually makes up 99% of my personality) just wants to call bullshit on all that. 

How can you possibly expect to succeed in a creative career if you're not dissatisfied? A lot? If I were taking time out to celebrate small wins I might be happier, but I wouldn't be particularly willing to submit myself for rejection AGAIN. Comparing myself--negatively, of course--to other people is a really, really good way to get myself out of bed early enough to write before work. 

And let's be honest: none of us is the next J.K. Rowling. She is a unicorn. I'm not even sure she actually exists--she could just be a hologram editors project at opportune moments in hopes of finding the next comfortable mid-lister. Even if I progress leaps and bounds beyond where I am today, and manage to live entirely off my writing, no day job, regularly putting out well-reviewed novels and whatever else, I will be one of the incredibly-effing-lucky ones. 

In fact, I think I resent the rejection letter comparisons not because they're too positive, vis: "buck up, champ, even the greats faced it!" but because they're secretly incredibly dark: you're setting the goalposts SO FAR AWAY. If I compare my future possible dream career to Hemingway's, I will always, ALWAYS fail to measure up. 

Don't worry, I'm not going to rain on other peoples' writing parade; if those thoughts motivate you, that is AWESOME. It's probably because you're already a WAY better person than I am (you probably don't even roll your eyes when the kindergartner starts doing the can-can on your seat-back). 

But let's acknowledge that there's another highly-effective way to motivate yourself: not being happy with where you are. As they say, there's more than one way to skin a cat. 

And if my outlook isn't proven more right on the cat-skinning front, dear god, please don't offer to petsit for me.

I'm Lazy.

It's one of my many, MANY flaws (others include profound stubbornness, passionate love of carbs I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY!, ardent belief that my cats understand the long conversations I have at them, and an inability to do my own hair).

I've been keeping up with the writing thing over at Newsweek, and the Toast, and McSweeney's, and lots of other places, but I haven't updated this blog in...wow. Let's not talk about that.

A Midwestern tendency to ignore negative things in the hopes that doing so will make them cease to exist is another of my flaws, actually.

So this is my terrifying declaration: I'm removing the "under construction" sign, working on actually CONSTRUCTING this thing, and planning to update (semi-)regularly.

Enjoy?