A diary entry: Who Am I Writing For?

a bad day turned good day turned introspection on who I am writing for to begin with.

We all come to tipping points, and today I met mine.

I have mentioned it a bit here but I am going through a huge major life change. That change boils down to a little thing called self-acceptance. I hardly know her.

In all seriousness, it has been a shift for me to realize I have been in a place of drifting along, coasting even, without truly showing up for myself. I think turning 30 (hey-o 30 club) and having an almost two-year-old has altered my perspective on the grand scheme in a very existential crisis sort of way. I am realizing that the same love, attentiveness and grace I extend towards others, I have wholly disregarded for myself. Caring far too much what others think and my pride wants to present myself like I have it all figured out, “it’s all good over here, nothing to see”.

We have all heard the phrase that we are our own worst “enemies” or “critics”. I could understand that as a creative. I think it is an unavoidable aspect of creating anything that you have a critical eye on what could be better, do you like it, will other people like it, etc. The trouble comes in that I have been applying that same inner critic to myself to the point where I just don’t like myself (forget about loving myself). That is not a great feeling to have and I know I deserve to exist in a better internal world, comfortable in who I am, for the inner Liz voice to be kinder.

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This shows up in my writing, I am writing a women’s fiction/rom-com-esque novel and I am halfway through writing it. I told family and friends at the start of the year that I would be writing a book. I even brainstormed a bit with them on the initial ideas. My family all pitched in and bought me a laptop, a really nice one perfect for writing. I cried of course. It got everyone excited and invested, and they check in pretty much constantly to ask how writing is going. I knew that could probably put some pressure on the writing process. I was always hesitant to share about it for that reason, but word got out and it’s been strange to navigate. I don’t want to let anyone down. I think my expectations for the book are extremely high. I should say, that this is my first time even attempting to write a book. Ever.

One of my favorite watercolor artists, literally just said a mistake artists make is the expectation of getting it perfect or right the first time you try something and being disappointed or giving up when it isn’t. This is especially true if you go into it without a plan.

I don’t have an outline, it’s all in my head. -me

No pressure. It’s what I tell myself as I sit down and write exactly what my friends and family perceive for me to write. I feel the words of my avid reading mother and mother-in-law and sister-in-law to my core, the things they like about books and the things I know people now look for when they pick up a women’s fiction rom-com. I am writing a scene between my main characters, getting excited about where they are heading and stop mid sentence. I have consciously thought, “well, I am going to make this next part less steamy than I want because my mom-in-law will read it and know I’m not a virgin.” (I have been married to her son for 7 years and have birthed a child. LOL)

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I digress on that point. It’s the principal that I have really let my people-pleasing seep not just into my own mind and self-speak, but in the things I create as well.

I don’t want to write a book that I know people in my life will enjoy, even people who I don’t know— the greater public, whatever. I want to write a book that I enjoy. The words tumble out and the story has literally formed itself in my head, so instead of altering it to make it fit into the narrative of who my family and friends might perceive me to be, I might do something crazy and write an actually vulnerable book. One I can be proud of. With stories of characters who deal with real people things, and build a love that is full of acceptance, just the way they are, no people-pleasing allowed.

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THAT SAID: I am also writing this book and substack for the soft girlies and guys and gays out there that just get it. I am writing the book for my college Liz self, a girl who really didn’t have a clue and was (okay currently still is) a chronic overthinker.

I love the community here on substack and I want to make you proud— you fellow reading fanatics and fellow AUTHORS (hello, hi. Am I allowed to call myself that yet?) This is a really lovely platform and outlet to digital journal and process in real time some of my bad days. Thank you for being here <3

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