A "Fine" Friday

Deepest apologies to anyone who saw the blog go all wonky last night. I am trying to implement some of the things I learned from Sessions 2 & 3 so I can post about them.

Ditto to anyone who sees any wonkyness this weekend. If I pop up in your reader 100+ times, I am terribly sorry. Just "mark all as read" until Monday.

So there is a blogger I think you all should meet. Her name is Maggie, Dammit.

No, really. Maggie, Dammit at Ok, Fine, Dammit.

A short time ago, Maggie held a contest to give away a pair of earrings I made. Of course, because I have been pointy-toe-boot deep in the throws of The Great Blog Move '08, I missed the start and didn't send you all over there and generally was no help at all. (Seriously my fault.)

Maggie pressed on through my FUBAR and awarded the earrings to Cathy, a fabu blogger herself. Go check her out and say hi. Bring a snack with you, though. You will get hungry.

This week, she introduced us to her fab new writing space. It's warm, it's cozy, it's all hers and I am just about 7 shades of green with envy. In her post she says:

Why, as writers, do we have such a hard time validating what we do? Why is it done in our spare time, tucked in garages and basements, hidden behind computer solitaire games at the coffee shop? Why do we call it a hobby, a craft, a leisurely pursuit? Why do we say, “I am in advertising sales, but I like to write on the side?” Why do we think it can’t be done?

You have no idea how many times I have pondered this. I am a person who thrives on success. Anyone remember the scene from The Simpsons when the school shuts down and Lisa has a meltdown? "Grade me! Grade me!" Yeah, that could be me. Only paler. I know this and own it.

However.

Through blogging and my awesome mommy fueled identity crisis I have come to a startling realization. 3 times in my life I have chosen to do something which owes it's measurable success standards to the opinions of others.

3 times I have chosen. Music, writing, and crafting.

I did it to myself, dang it!

This was my comment to Maggie:

I pretty much have issues with any statement that begins, “I am a…” I was recently asked about Etsy, and whether I was an artist. I answered, “Well, no. A crafter.” As if I needed to correct them and disavow the extra credit they had awarded me. Come to think of it, I was asked pretty much the same thing about baking recently and answered similarly.

I am. A writer. A crafter. An artist. A flippin’ purple frog if I put my mind to it, and we should all stop qualifying ourselves.

Hubby and I have had many conversations about this subject over the last 12 (yup, 12 this week) years. Tonight, I was telling him about Maggie's post and talking about labels.

I told Hubby that I have come to realize that if I label myself as XYZ, then in my mind I have to follow that with some measure of success as an XYZ. Otherwise, I fail. Better not to try than to fail.

He said, "But if you don't try, you'll never know."

My answer? "Yes, but failing is worse than not knowing."

Blech. I annoy me too.

I would not accept this answer from Monkey, so why is it ok for me?

Short answer: It's not.