It's possible that I'll have to disown my daughter. I love her dearly and I couldn't ask for a better daughter in most regards, but she came home last week with the most distressing of news. She said that her class was reading A Wrinkle in Time aloud in class and that she didn't like it! How is that possible? It's one of my favorite books of all time and she doesn't like it! Is there a formal process for disowning her or can I just throw her out?
Did you know there are actually five books in the A Wrinkle in Time series? I've gone through 43 years thinking there were only three books, and it turns out there were five. Upon learning this miraculous news I immediately got on Amazon and ordered the whole boxed set. Rowan may have no taste, but I intend to read the whole series again soon - all of them this time!
This topic came up because I was reading a blog post by one of my favorite travel writers (and the only one I've actually met), Colleen Friesen. She was writing about another Madeleine L'Engle book, A Circle of Quiet. (Did you know she also wrote books for adults? Me neither!) A Circle of Quiet is the first book in a series called The Crosswicks Journal, Madeleine's journal-based memoir. Of course, as I was ordering the boxed set, I also had to order the first four Journals. I've been reading the first one in which she writes quite a lot about being a writer. Fascinating, of course, but one passage particularly caught my attention the other night. It was written during/about a decade of her life in which she was writing prolifically, but selling nothing (hard to believe):
I made the mistake of thinking that I "ought" not to write because I wasn't making money, and therefore in the eyes of many people around me I had no business to spend hours every day at the typewriter. I felt a failure not only because my books weren't being published but because I couldn't emulate our neighboring New England housewives. I was looking in the wrong mirrors. I still do, and far too often. I catch myself at it, but usually afterwards. If I have not conciously thought, "What will the neighbors think?" I've acted as though I had.
Wow. It's hard for me to believe that people who are so successful at whatever it is they do have such mundane doubts about themselves; the same doubts I have on a regular basis.
I've been struggling for the past few years with wanting to do more to express myself creatively, and generally I blame a lack of time for what feels like poor creative output (in volume if not ability). I express regularly (to the disgust of my friends, I'm sure) the desire to quit my job so I can spend more time writing and creating, but I haven't found the strength yet to make that leap. There are many reasons - stable income, health insurance, etc. - but one of the overriding ones is what other people would think. What right do I have to quit a perfectly good job when there are so many Americans desperate for one? Who am I to think that I should have the right to not work when most of my female peers do? Will my husband, mother-in-law, etc., etc. think less of me if I'm not "gainfully" employed?
I try to counter these arguments with myself by pointing out that it's not like I plan to sit around eating bonbons and watching soaps all day. I fully intend to pitch free-lance articles and create art for sale. Somehow, though, the fact that those activities are not only fun, but don't come with a guarantee of income seems to render the argument powerless.
Ultimately, I have to stop worrying about what other people will think and do what's right for me. At this moment, I have to be honest and admit that some part of me likes the competence I exhibit in my job and the respect I seem to garner for my capabilities. That, and the health insurance, are hard to give up. Soon, however....
