Bibliogenesis

As I walk from the gift shop to the gate, I can’t decide if I should pat myself on the back or kick myself in the ass.  I’ve opted to return to the shelf an intriguing paperback I study intensely, killing time before I board my plane. Not one to pass up an opportunity to grow my library, I make my choice in a moment of proud frugality but can’t shake the feeling there is more in this book for me than the rich content its captivating title promises.  What can I glean from how this young author, Marina Keegan (who lived only twenty-two short years), is able to package her work in the vessel my yearning heart covets?  The covers which sandwich "The Opposite of Loneliness" not only exude praise for relatable, wise writing, but outline the string of small publishing victories this author fought for before winning the big prize.

I’m wallowing in my own stuckness again, a familiar cesspool where I routinely swim whenever a few hundred of my most talented colleagues converge on an exquisite desert resort for networking, learning and awards.  Who can be in a setting like this and not compare herself to at least one other person?  Who hasn’t spent at least a minute or two feeling small while rubbing against some big shoulders?  I’m a trainer, not a trainee, and yet I’m reminded of all there is I don’t know, and maybe more importantly, all I’ve forgotten.

 

It’s a surprising statistic, but a full 50% of adults in America are contemplating not just a job change, but a career change. Wow!  How can so many be so far off base?   Seems there are a lot of us questioning our passion for our jobs, wondering if maybe we belong somewhere else, but what we do today seems so different than what we dream of doing tomorrow we can’t even begin to chart a path in another direction.  We think in one enormous step, instead of considering a series of small ones.  And we end up making no move at all because such a giant leap is just too scary to contemplate.

My brief encounter in the airport with “The Opposite of Loneliness” reminds me the road to a book often includes stops along the way in magazines, journals, newspapers, social media and the internet. What happened to the “me” who posted to her blog 2-3 times a week, or the brave soul who submitted to and was rejected by the likes of “The Sun” and The New York Times “Modern Love” column?  How could I have forgotten my own studied logic?  More importantly, how have I allowed myself to abandon the regular practice of my craft and the joy this infuses into my life?

And as I begin to think small again, big ideas flow like a sluice.  Are we really so distant from our passions, I wonder, or are we just not being creative enough about how we might introduce them to our work? 

At the awards dinner last night I seek out and confide in a familiar face; I discover she wants to be a fresh advocate for me.  She volunteers to help me get unstuck, warning she’ll expect me to think out of the box. Is it possible to weave my writing into the profession I’ve honed and evolved over the course of nearly 30 years?  What if my career today could take me to my dreams for tomorrow? 

Surrounded by hundreds of energetic peers this week, I somehow find myself in a lonely place, questioning where someone with my talents, skills, hopes and dreams fits in. Ironically, the message I walk away thinking my organization wants to convey is that our business not only thrives on, but depends on the unique qualities each individual brings.  I can see now that space can be made right here for the real me; I just need to be brave.

The road to authenticity is an uncompartmentalized life. In the opposite of loneliness that is my conference I sometimes fail to remember we’re all scared of something.