I'm a little ambivalent about titles. On one hand, I feel as if they can pigeon-hole us: the cool kids, the dweebs, the nerds, the band geeks, the jocks. On the other hand I feel as if titles give us... well... a sense of entitlement. Or empowerment: esquire, president, CEO, secret agent, supermodel, superhero, etc.
Over the years I've traveled through a bunch of titles:
Actress
Singer
Daughter
Sister
President
New Kid
Lonely Girl
Popular Girl
Sorority Girl
Nerd
Producer
Unemployed
Girlfriend
Wife
Couch Potato
Runner
Marathoner
(and back to) Couch Potato :)
Yet there's been one title I keep struggling with over the years: "writer." Have we talked about this already? I feel like I talk about it all the time.
When I was a kid, I remember holding my first "published book" with pride. We were in third grade and had been assigned to write a book titled "All About Me." The book was about 6 pages long with one sentence per page. In the school's office, it was spiral bound with a laminated cardboard cover. Inside you would read about, well... me. I had a big brother and a cat named Maxinne. I wanted to be an actress, a hairdresser, or a lawyer. At the end, it was followed by an "About the Author" page, which listed the same information.
I thought it was a treasure -- and certainly I was sure it was the most brilliant piece of literature ever created.
I wrote for fun. Or for comfort. Poems and prose got me through my tough teenage years. Journaling helped me feel as if I had an outlet.
In college I majored in English because it made sense. It balanced out my theatre major, which was "fun." The double-major in English would make me appear "serious." Graduating in three years would make me appear "super serious."
I fell into my career naturally. Having both parents as journalists (mom, a print reporter and dad, a photojournalist) would mean the apple wouldn't fall far from the tree. My dreams of becoming a hairdresser/lawyer/actress had fallen behind and my dad easily tricked me into the news business.
For years, I spent my days writing and producing stories and newscasts. I received a master's degree on fellowship from the world's best journalism school. I became a network news writer. I joined the Writers' Guild. I even landed a book deal.
And yet, even with those pretty endorsements, it has still been a struggle for me to identify with this title without following it with a question mark: I am a Writer. Period.
Sometimes I believe this struggle to call myself a writer is simply because I don't feel as if I write well enough. Or often enough.
My self-criticism serves as my limitation.
My grammar is strong. But my vocabulary could be stronger.
I compare my rough drafts with published works.
My discipline is weak.
My ideal of what a "writer" is somehow seems greater than I could ever hope to be.
And then I think of Mile 8.
As I was training for a marathon a few years ago, I would spend every Saturday morning waddling several miles, adding a couple miles to each weekend, slowly (very slowly) building up my endurance to 26 miles. I had never been a runner.
During high school I was well aware of my lack of coordination. I much preferred the camaraderie and kilts than the actual athleticism of my team sports. I happily took my place on the field hockey team playing "left bench." Lacrosse was no different. I stood in the goal, watching the rest of my teammates skimper up and down the field, praying no one would toss the ball my way. If we were challenged to run a mile during practice, I would gasp and walk and grip my aching side.
Who was I to sign up for a marathon?
I had worked my way up to eight miles in training. Eight miles without dying! It was then, that somehow I knew, no matter how slow I would end up, I would some day finish a marathon. I wasn't fast. I would certainly not win a marathon. But I spent my mornings donning a race cap and running shoes. I was slow. But I was dedicated. And by merely getting out the door in the morning, I was a runner.
So today, as I continue to fear my editor's deadline, to compare myself to "real" authors, to feel the weight of the world peeking over my shoulder and criticising every word I write, I will take a few minutes to allow myself to waddle into the world as a writer. I might tip toe my way to the end of my book. It might not resonate with any readers. But for today, I am showing up to write. I am committing to my title without question mark.
Today, I AM A WRITER.
Monday, November 01, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Biology 150 (and how it still influences my life)
This is an email I just sent to an old college professor. I felt like sharing it with you too. Thank you to you teachers who push us to excel!
Hi Dr. Jorgensen,
I hope this finds you well.
I'm not sure if you remember me, but I took your Bio 150 class when I was a freshman at Roanoke College. I remember listening to my roommate complain about your class during the Fall 1995 semester. She spoke of how you were a tough teacher and how "no one can ace his class." I took that idea as a challenge, thinking, "I can ace his class." As an English/Theater double-major, I had no specific interests in biology, but I had much interest in proving to myself that I could stand up to a difficult challenge.
I enrolled in your class the following Spring semester with high hopes of easily making an "A." My roommate was right. Your class was the toughest I'd ever come across. The material seemed dense, too difficult for me to comprehend, but I was determined to ace your class.
Even though I feared the ridicule that would I would face from other students, I bought a tape recorder, placed it on my desk, and started recording every one of your lectures while taking meticulous notes. At night, I would listen to the taped lectures and type them up, word for word. The repetition of your lectures helped me considerably.
When it came time to take your tests, I revisited the material and made a bunch of flash cards, hoping to trigger the details of all-too-confusing cellular structures. Over the next few months I found myself falling in love with biology. I started to find the mysteries of human structure and development fascinating, I looked forward to every class, and I relished in my studies.
I kept my schedule packed, blending my intense study time with my participation in choirs and plays and of course, having fun with my friends. And there were many times my studying called for sacrifices. I can recall a Friday night when I was reviewing the material for an upcoming test in your class. I sat in one of the study rooms in my dorm, Marion Hall. My friends would pass by and head out the door, stopping to ask me when I would be done studying so I could meet them at a party. I told them I still had a little more material to cover and would hopefully make it out later. I remember clearly one friend who said, "Why are you studying on a Friday night? You'll forget all the material by the time you take the test on Monday anyway." I shrugged my shoulders and got back to work, making sure not to mention that the test was not on Monday, but on Wednesday -- I was studying five days in advance.
While those months of listening to lectures and absorbing every little detail about the class taught me much about biology, I learned so much more about myself than I ever could have imagined. I learned that I loved learning. I loved working hard and proving to myself that I could do the unthinkable. I taught myself how to study. I figured out ways to teach myself new material. There are days that I think back to those flash cards, those Friday nights in the study room, those difficult tests, and I somehow feel as if I can do anything if I just prioritize and work hard.
I did ace your class.
At the end of the semester you asked me to consider Biology as a major. "Biology?" I thought, "but I already have two majors." The idea was tempting, though.
I don't regret majoring in English or in Theater. Every class I took at Roanoke College was well worth the hard work. I graduated from the school in three years. I worked as a television news producer and writer for twelve years, most recently at Good Morning America. I received a full-tuition fellowship from Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism. Now I'm writing my first book.
Sometimes I wonder if professors know how much of an influence they have had on the lives of their students. I'm sure many teachers gauge their success by the number of students who manage to succeed in their career field. But there are those of us who see you as a success merely because you inspired us when you didn't realize it. You served as an example when you thought no one was listening during your introductory-level class.
Thank you for being the teacher who keeps pushing his students. I can only assume being a difficult professor has its drawbacks. No one loves the teacher who makes life hard. But for me, your pushing made all the difference in my life.
Hi Dr. Jorgensen,
I hope this finds you well.
I'm not sure if you remember me, but I took your Bio 150 class when I was a freshman at Roanoke College. I remember listening to my roommate complain about your class during the Fall 1995 semester. She spoke of how you were a tough teacher and how "no one can ace his class." I took that idea as a challenge, thinking, "I can ace his class." As an English/Theater double-major, I had no specific interests in biology, but I had much interest in proving to myself that I could stand up to a difficult challenge.
I enrolled in your class the following Spring semester with high hopes of easily making an "A." My roommate was right. Your class was the toughest I'd ever come across. The material seemed dense, too difficult for me to comprehend, but I was determined to ace your class.
Even though I feared the ridicule that would I would face from other students, I bought a tape recorder, placed it on my desk, and started recording every one of your lectures while taking meticulous notes. At night, I would listen to the taped lectures and type them up, word for word. The repetition of your lectures helped me considerably.
When it came time to take your tests, I revisited the material and made a bunch of flash cards, hoping to trigger the details of all-too-confusing cellular structures. Over the next few months I found myself falling in love with biology. I started to find the mysteries of human structure and development fascinating, I looked forward to every class, and I relished in my studies.
I kept my schedule packed, blending my intense study time with my participation in choirs and plays and of course, having fun with my friends. And there were many times my studying called for sacrifices. I can recall a Friday night when I was reviewing the material for an upcoming test in your class. I sat in one of the study rooms in my dorm, Marion Hall. My friends would pass by and head out the door, stopping to ask me when I would be done studying so I could meet them at a party. I told them I still had a little more material to cover and would hopefully make it out later. I remember clearly one friend who said, "Why are you studying on a Friday night? You'll forget all the material by the time you take the test on Monday anyway." I shrugged my shoulders and got back to work, making sure not to mention that the test was not on Monday, but on Wednesday -- I was studying five days in advance.
While those months of listening to lectures and absorbing every little detail about the class taught me much about biology, I learned so much more about myself than I ever could have imagined. I learned that I loved learning. I loved working hard and proving to myself that I could do the unthinkable. I taught myself how to study. I figured out ways to teach myself new material. There are days that I think back to those flash cards, those Friday nights in the study room, those difficult tests, and I somehow feel as if I can do anything if I just prioritize and work hard.
I did ace your class.
At the end of the semester you asked me to consider Biology as a major. "Biology?" I thought, "but I already have two majors." The idea was tempting, though.
I don't regret majoring in English or in Theater. Every class I took at Roanoke College was well worth the hard work. I graduated from the school in three years. I worked as a television news producer and writer for twelve years, most recently at Good Morning America. I received a full-tuition fellowship from Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism. Now I'm writing my first book.
Sometimes I wonder if professors know how much of an influence they have had on the lives of their students. I'm sure many teachers gauge their success by the number of students who manage to succeed in their career field. But there are those of us who see you as a success merely because you inspired us when you didn't realize it. You served as an example when you thought no one was listening during your introductory-level class.
Thank you for being the teacher who keeps pushing his students. I can only assume being a difficult professor has its drawbacks. No one loves the teacher who makes life hard. But for me, your pushing made all the difference in my life.
Friday, September 10, 2010
The PNW
I'm not sure if the people in the northwest think of us as crazy California drivers or unforgiving New York drivers, but apparently we don't fit in on the roads up here. The first day we were here I was flipped off in Oregon. I figured the woman was extra antsy because our rental has Washington plates.
And then Evan was given the bird in Washington. So they hate us there too.
Other than that, it's been a great trip so far.
On a side note...
Tonight is Stand Up to Cancer, a cross-network televised fundraiser for cancer research. I love this. Most of you know, cancer has played a big part in my family life for a long time. Over the years I've done a few fundraisers for different types of cancer. This particular fundraiser is for collaborative cancer research. Check out their website or watch tonight at 8pm (7central).
And then Evan was given the bird in Washington. So they hate us there too.
Other than that, it's been a great trip so far.
On a side note...
Tonight is Stand Up to Cancer, a cross-network televised fundraiser for cancer research. I love this. Most of you know, cancer has played a big part in my family life for a long time. Over the years I've done a few fundraisers for different types of cancer. This particular fundraiser is for collaborative cancer research. Check out their website or watch tonight at 8pm (7central).
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