I’m Learning to Let Go of Things, and That’s What Gave Me the Guts to Hit Publish
Update on I’m Not the Manager Here
In the past four weeks, I’ve pressed publish on my much anticipated (by me) memoir, I’m Not the Manager Here, been promoted to a full-time salaried position at work, and finally removed the gallons of gunk-balls clogging my shower drain.
I am equally proud of all these accomplishments.
Although the gunk-ball removal is the only thing on this list that doesn’t send an undercurrent of terror through my soul. So maybe I’m most excited about the gunk-balls.
The book scares me because it’s personal. This fucking thing is like my soul’s hand-knit throw blanket from a favoured great-grandmother wrapped up into a 60,000-word fever dream, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want to let it go.
I wanted to keep coddling my little newborn and moving around commas that I know shouldn’t be moved and tweaking details and writing and rewriting my acknowledgment page because there are so many people I need to thank!
I wanted to hold it close enough to feel my cold and sterile laptop screen against my cheek and whisper to it that I’ll always keep my little precious safe and out of harm’s way.
I was doing just that when my husband walked into my study a week ago and gave me some tough love.
“You’re just procrastinating now. The book is done Lindsay. You’re going to keep saying that it needs more editing or a better cover photo or more scheduled advertising posts, and next thing you know it will be three years from now and you’ll still be talking about how your book is almost ready to go.”
He was right. He was right about it all.
When getting offered the promotion at work last month, I sat down and did a whole lot of soul searching. And by soul searching, I do not mean binge-watching Loudermilk for five hours straight with my hand down my pants.
Don’t judge me. People in recovery are a total turn-on.
But no, that’s absolutely not what I did. Instead, I actually soul-searched. I mapped out what I wanted in this life.
This past year has been a crapshoot when it comes to my online writing. Most weeks I had no time to craft articles, and when I did, it constantly felt like I was writing for the algo.
At some unknown date, my love for writing transformed into a love for views. And that was reflected in my work.
I lost the zeal, man. I lost it good.
Since closing our small business in 2019, I’ve only worked part-time outside the home. This was in an attempt to get my writing career off the ground. However, while trying to do that, I lost my love for writing. Instead, I was pumping out work I thought the curators and algorithm might love. I haven’t published any of my trademark silliness for months.
That was the first masturbation reference I’ve made since 2021!
I needed to get back to the basics of writing. I needed to remember why I started writing in the first place. So I took the full-time promotion at work and decided I would learn to write like nobody was reading again.
Of course, because irrational and relentless fear is an ever-present theme in my life (and book), I worry that I made the wrong decision.
Should I have declined the promotion?
Did my decision to dedicate the 9–5 workday to work, just work me out of a writing career?
Judging by that last sentence, there may have been no writing career in the first place.
We always read those hashtag inspo posts about people quitting their 9–5 jobs to write full-time. Here I am doing the exact opposite of that.
The difference is my 9–5 job isn’t a grind. I love my job. It’s challenging and fun, and I get many of the stories I write from working at that place. I’m Not the Manager Here is based on my last five years of employment there.
I still worry, though, because anxiety is my safe place.
If you’ve never sat down and soul-searched, I highly recommend it. Like really sit with yourself and think about your needs and wants. Feel the emotions inside your body and…
Okay, this sounds like I’m veering back to the whole Loudermilk thing, and as much as I genuinely want to drive home the point that this show is excellent and more people should watch it because I’ve never seen something made so well that’s having to do with addiction and recovery, what I really mean is soul searching saves lives.
Well my life at least.
Sitting quietly with my thoughts showed me I needed to let go of some things.
I needed to let go of the beliefs I had for myself ten years ago.
I needed to let go of the anxieties that seem to be forever holding me back.
I needed to let go of my soul’s hand-knit throw blanket, despite how comforting it may be to hold it close for a little while longer.
I’d never call myself a perfectionist because that is simply not true. But I would call myself a hoarder. An emotion-hoarder, to be exact. I hold onto feelings and hopes and dreams like I’m a panicked dog mom holding back her giant German shepherd who is feverishly trying to eat that used condom on the side of the road.
(True story, remind me to tell you about it one day.)
I’m learning to let go of my precious feelings, hopes and dreams to make way for new ones.
Once upon a time, I thought David Sedaris was the ultimate definition of a writer. I wanted to become David Sedaris. Of course, I’d have to divorce Jamie and find a man named Hugh to marry and move to the UK and write a ton of bestseller books. It would have been a whole thing.
The soul searching reminded me that I can create my own definition of a writer.
Now I think I may try on the title of businessy person/humour-lady/spoken word poet specializing in camel-toe comedy. Camel-Toe Comedy, that’s probably going to be the title of my next book.
Now that I’ve allowed the book and my preconceived notions of the kind of writer I thought I should be fly into the great beyond, the possibilities for tomorrow are infinite.
I’m Not the Manager Here is available for Kindle e-book preorder HERE. Print versions will be available for order on January 31st. Also, don’t worry, I’m not as rambly in the book. This is exactly why I had to hire an editor.
"Don't be fucking weird!" LOL I feel like this is the anthem to my life too except I am saying it to myself and then disappointing me.
I would love to read your book. I'll wait for the print. Thanks for sharing.
Congratulations on publishing the memoir at last.