While dancing around in my kitchen and singing to Pandora, I had an epiphany about how to best describe my feelings about where I am as a writer. It happened somewhere between Debbie Gibson's Out of the Blue and Cupid's Cupid Shuffle.
The first memory I have of doing karaoke in public is when I was 17. It was 1996 and I drove my car across the city to a mall to see my crush - a radio DJ named Rob Blair. He was doing a live broadcast/fundraiser for Jerry's Kids to help the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Part of the event was karaoke, and Rob and I sang When I Fall in Love by Celine Dion and Clive Griffin. I don't know why we chose that. Rob was not in love with me and what I felt for him was nothing more than infatuation. He knew I was fond of him though and he kind of enjoyed it. But, that's the song we picked and it was awful and now I have a nice memory!
I'm 40 now and can't think of a year since then I haven't done karaoke. For 23 years, I've gone out more times than I can count with different groups of friends and sang my heart out. I have a few go-to songs that I perform - Honey, I'm Home by Shania Twain, I'm Movin' On by Rascal Flatts, And Then He Kissed Me by the Crystals. When I have my best friends with me, we do Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations. I've done Sir Mix-a-Lot, Madonna and Divinyls. I haven't done Celine Dion since I was 17 and that's better for everyone.
While I may have learned a few karaoke "rules," one thing I haven't done is gotten much better at it. I cannot carry a tune and I know it. I continue to do it because I love it. Music is one of my most favorite things in the world, and karaoke is a time to get out and have a few laughs with friends. I'm not the worst singer sometimes, but I know I'll never be the best. It's easy to sit in a chair and sing along with your friends. I know the lyrics to the song I choose. I know the melody. And I've usually got some liquid courage in me. But when I grab the microphone and the focus is on me, my level of confidence takes a dive.
My history as a writer goes back even further than 1996 but, for me, the two are similar. The first piece of writing I remember sharing with anyone was very simple - demographic information. It was the late '80s. I sat in my bedroom and, in my best penmanship, wrote my name, address and phone number. I wrote my mom's name, my dad's name and my sister's name. That doesn't sound like something to be remembered, and sounds even less like something anyone would want to read. But the next part was about a man who soon after became my stepdad. I wasn't sure at an age of less than 10 what to call a man we lived with that wasn't yet married to my mom. I knew he wasn't my dad but I thought the terms boyfriend and girlfriend were reserved for teenagers :)
I pondered and wrote, finishing the piece, and ran into their bedroom to show them. They read aloud softly and quickly and stopped when they reached the bottom of the page. They looked up at me and then continued to read slowly "My doo doo butt's name is Dennis Burke." I don't know why I wrote that, and don't remember knowing then why I wrote it. We all got a good laugh out of it and a nice memory, and I think my stepdad kept it until he died.
I remember, in the moment, being so proud of what I'd written and being able to share it. I'm happy to say I've written more interesting things (I think) since the late '80s. In 5th grade, I was in a small group of kids of divorced parents and wrote a short story. It was called The New Kid on the Block - no, it wasn't about boy bands. It was about a boy who recently moved away with his mother and he was struggling to find friends in his new neighborhood and school. I think it was 6 or 8 pages long. I don't have it anymore but know that I wrote a sequel too!
In 6th grade, I wrote a paper about getting stuck in a highchair in a pizza joint after a trip to a haunted house. My teacher wrote 'amateur' across the top and I still have no idea how it was meant to be interpreted. I wrote poetry throughout middle and high school, and I have a stack that's poorly written and mostly dark. I started keeping a journal in college and took an etymology class because I love words. Several years ago, I wrote a children's book called Colors of the World that I self-published. I sold a few dozen copies, mostly to family, and I have a copy of it on my children's bookshelf. The story is mediocre at best and the art is just plain awful.
In 2018, I wrote my first book review, and last year, I finished the first draft of a novel. Looking back over my writing timeline, I've certainly come a long way from demographic information and "doo doo butt." I don't doubt my ability to write - that's the part I know I can do. I am reasonably intelligent. I can spell well and I've always gotten an A in grammar. But it's the "grab the microphone" moment and my confidence is tanking. I need to do more than write if I want to become an author. I need to tell a story, and that's the part I can't do.
My novel, for now, is put on hold and while I hope to one day pick it back up and get it published, I don't know that I ever will. Maybe I'm not meant to be an author any more than I'm meant to be a singer. I'm trying but struggling to accept that fact, and maybe it isn't true. But instead of focusing on the "what if I never..." part of it, I'm going to put my energy into the parts of writing I know I can do. Simply because, just like music, I enjoy it and I'm not ready for the journey to end.
