No Homers

I’ve been debating whether or not to write about this at all, because naked insecurity and self-pity aren’t exactly pretty. But then I went down the hall this afternoon to say goodbye to Amy and wish her good luck. She asked me how I’m feeling, and I just about burst into tears right in her office. Which would not have been cool. I think she could tell, too, what with me not having any sort of poker face at all. So, thanks, Amy, for not panicking in the face of me looking like I was on the verge of a breakdown. Really, I’m not.

But here’s the thing. As much as I have enjoyed watching a group of bloggers I read and like all get pregnant, have babies and discover and write about the good, the bad and the ugly of parenting, there have been times when I felt like the kid standing outside the candy shop, nose pressed against the window, wondering where my invitation to the party was. And now there is an actual club they all get to be a part of that I can’t join. I’m so happy for them, and I think the whole Club Mom concept is a pretty cool one. And yet…it sucks to be left behind.

And underneath all of that, of course, is the thought that even if I did have a kid (and I will. I really will someday) that no one would want me to write for their website. That even though I write copy for a living – and pretty successfully too, although there’s a lot more to my job than that – I’ve only mastered writing for other people and will never have a distinctive or interesting voice of my own. That people will never feel the same connection to me and my writing that they feel to other, more successful bloggers.

I’ve been trying to remind myself of my goals when I started blogging, almost two years ago. First and foremost, I thought it would be a good way for my friends and I to feel more connected to each other, since we are scattered around the country. Instead of writing emails, I would post, and they would read and exchange comments and crack jokes and we’d be more in touch from day to day. Well, none of that happened. Half of my friends don’t read on a regular basis, they rarely comment, and a couple of them just plain think doing this is weird. I’m much more likely to get a phone call saying, “So I was reading your blog, and I just had to call.” Which is fine, really. At least we’re in touch, if not quite the way I envisioned. Plus, I’ve met so many new and fun and interesting people through blogging that it has turned into a way to make new friends. And I’m all for that.

My other goal was to do a different type of writing from the writing I do in my job, and to hopefully become a better writer through forcing myself to write on a regular, if not daily basis. And I think I am a stronger writer than I was two years ago.

So you see it’s not that I’m seeking fortune and fame through blogging (although I’d be happy to take fortune). I just want to be good at this. Well, that and to have a baby.