Worth sharing

I've felt guilty recently because my writer's inspiration has been null. I've sat down a number of times to write a post to no avail. It's not that I haven't had things to share. I guess I felt I had nothing profound to say. It's funny to feel that pressure here, on a site that is entirely my own. The pressure to produce something worth sharing.

I had coffee with a friend this morning who, like me, is searching for that professional lightening rod -- that thing/place that would not only make you feel great and motivated, but would also make money.

I left her feeling great and motivated, ready to write, inspired to produce something worth sharing.

That said, it makes me wonder what really is worth sharing? As I try so hard to put myself out there as a "writer" I often wonder if anyone reads what I write. Writing is such a fickle medium, one that allows readers to skim and skip and scan. It's nebulous too. The Internet has allowed any and everyone to become a writer. It seems every third person has a blog these days.

The last couple of weeks I've been dabbling in a new genre, one that scares the hell out of me: young adult fiction. I've never written any fiction. I've actually only taken one creative writing class, and I was horrendously terrible. Like the worst one in the class. I actually got a C. The only other C I ever got was in college algebra, which makes me queasy to recall.

However, I have this story in my head and my heart that I keep dreaming about. I have a character who is taking shape without a lot of effort, and I have managed to write a few clumsy chapters. But I keep asking myself is this shit worth sharing? Would this text get me in front of an interested editor or publisher let alone kids who are perhaps the world's toughest audience?

Ian perpetually teases me about writing the next Harry Potter-type series so we can retired on a sailboat before we're forty. I always say, yeah, yeah. One day I'll write it. But how many people actually sit down and do it? Insert whatever nagging item here . . . how many people actually follow through?

I suppose that is what's so great about this space. I can write whatever I want, I can hit publish, people may or may not read it. The good thing too about writing here is my wheels get turning. Writing begets more writing? I think so.

Who knows if this little character will ever the grace the pages of a real book, but first, I need to believe that her story is worth sharing. I'm working on that.

"What do you do, Hailey?"

It's funny how a simple question like, "What do you do?" can evoke anxiety. Over the years, I've had myriad jobs. I've been a ski instructor, a waitress (several times), an ice cream maker, an hr manager, an outreach coordinator. I've sold ads, I've taught wellness classes, I've written grants, I've made coffee and cocktails.

All of those careers, if you will, were well and good. They helped me get to where I am today with a host of random skills and a pretty wild (albeit decent) resume.

Upon moving to Boise, my response to that question for a while was, "I'm a stay at home mom." It's funny how much judgment passes with that statement. For those of us who have stayed at home, you know that it's a tireless and exhausting job that requires patience and the ability to spin 37 plates in the air at the same time without burning down your house. It's also totally awesome and an incredible  gift to one's family.

I never in a million . . . TRILLION years imagined I would have the chance to stay home with my baby. It has been an enormous blessing, and I owe so much to my gracious husband for the opportunity.

I think some people imagine this life of staying home as one of yoga pants, Kardashian marathons and endless bowls of popcorn. Sadly, for me, not the case.

Regardless of how productive my days are/were, I felt I needed to be doing something else while I was home. I missed being a productive, wage-earning member of my partnership. I also craved using big words with grownups.

That said, I dabbled in some freelance writing. I started with some local magazines writing advertisements and fun, uplifting editorial pieces. Gradually my portfolio grew, as did my connections for new work.

After completing my MA, I never in a million, perhaps trillion, years imagined I would actually use my degree in this capacity -- as a writer. I knew I had a lot of great, transferable skills making me a better communicator and thus a better employee. However, I am really tired of being just someone's employee.

So do you know how CRAZY it is for me now when people ask me that question, "What do you do, Hailey?" and I reply, "I'm a writer." It makes me want to pee in my pants. I still feel a little funny saying that, like, perhaps tomorrow I'll wake up and it was all a dream.

In July an article I wrote will be featured in a national magazine. It's a piece about how having a baby hasn't ruined my life -- it's only made it that much richer. The photograph below of Malia and me inspired it, and this beautiful magazine chose to run it.

It's called The Village Magazine. Click here for more information. I hope you check it out. Buy a copy. Squeal when you read it. Smile when you read my bio.

I can't tell you how proud and happy it makes me to be able write . . . for paycheck! Thank you for reading along here with me. Thank you for encouraging me to keep writing. I am hopeful that I get to wake up tomorrow and the offer still stands.

Big love to you all on this beautiful Friday. Have a wonderful weekend! xoH

Health, happiness and love

Today is my birthday eve. I don't know how it's even possible that it's already June. I sound like a broken record, but seriously, time slow down!

My birthday has always been the culmination of summer. As a kid, my mom threw amazing sleepover parties in our giant army tent in the backyard. My birthday usually fell on/around Western Days in Twin Falls, which always made for cheap thrills watching the parade just blocks away from our house. I always liked to think the parade was in my honor.

Birthdays now days involve much less fan fare, and sadly, no parades.

It's funny to think that Ian proposed to me on my birthday just three years ago. We snuck out of the office for an afternoon birthday float, and he got down on one knee with tears in his eyes. I kept asking him what's wrong?! Are you hurt? Did you kneel on a fish hook? Why are you crying?!

He pulled out the ring, and we were both crying. We then squealed and kissed and shouted, "We're getting married!" to every boat that passed our little island. I like to tease him that he set the birthday bar pretty high that day.

This year Auntie Julia has volunteered to watch the babe. I'm looking forward to a ride in the hills on my new (new to me) bike and dinner with my main squeeze. Simple, quiet and pretty perfect.

My birthday wishes have also become significantly more simple and more meaningful. Much like my daily prayers, they now involve health, happiness and love. No ponies or yellow convertibles or parades in my honor.

Happy birthday to me! Here's to another joy-filled year! xoH