Thursday, August 05, 2010

What If You're Just Meant To Be The Cheerleader?


Here's something I've been thinking about a lot lately.
I don't make it any secret that one of my dreams is to become a published author. I blog a lot about the ups and downs, the joys and the disappointments of this journey I have undertaken.
But as the months turn into years, and the rejections mount, I have begun (once again) to ask myself the hard questions.
Do I really have what it takes?
Heck, do I even know what it takes anymore, because honestly, 'it' seems to change every couple of days.
Do I have the ability to handle it if things go south and I have to conclude that this is just not going to happen for me?
Am I content to be just a cheerleader?
I'm just throwing these ideas out there. If you really want me to answer them at this particular moment, I'd probably have to say,
1. Uh, think so, but not sure,
2. Yeah, don't know.
3. Hell no.

No, I don't want to be a cheerleader.
Not. At. All.
That's being brutally honest with you, but that's how I feel.
That's not to say I don't want to rush out on the field and act like a crazy person when something good happens to somebody else, but...oh, wait...I said the H word, didn't I?
Honest. Honesty.
That one.
Yeah. Something we don't get a lot of these days, in whichever circle we choose to travel in.
Let's be real. Well, okay, let ME be real.
I love my friends. Blog buddies. People I've never even met. Everyone else in the world getting that magical call except me. Really. I am extremely happy when good things happen for them, like publishing contracts or whatever...but, there is that *gasp* human side of me, that shrivels into a tight little ball, spits out a few not so nice words, and spends hours thinking, "What the heck?"
I want to be a part of the winning team. The guys jumping around, shouting hoo ha and pounding each other on the back, because they've won.
Cheerleaders get to proclaim the victory, but they didn't play the game.
They didn't get down and dirty, bruised, injured, breathless...
Is the victory really theirs to claim?
I'm not sure. Yes, in some sense. Their job is to cheer on the team, boost moral...and the like, but to me anyway, that is just not the same as actually being out there in the thick of it.
I don't want to cheer everyone else on from the sidelines, always wondering what that taste of victory really feels like.
So maybe I'm the only one that feels this way. Maybe I'm not.
I'm just telling it like it is, for me, at this point in my journey, that at times seems to be far more difficult than I bargained for. And today, I'm asking the question.
What if I'm just meant to be the cheerleader?
It's not what I signed up to do, that's for sure. But if it's what I'm supposed to do, then how do I do it without getting out there and throwing rotten eggs at the quarterback because I know I can play football so much better than him, but no, I'm stuck chanting perky cheers and looking pretty. Like, hello, do you know who I am?

Okay, seriously, I know nothing about football so this whole analogy is going down the tubes fast, but do you get what I mean?
Have you ever been there?
Am I just a selfish sniveling excuse of a wanna-be-writer who will never get anywhere because she just winges about how tough it is to make it in this business...or do I have a right to just puke it up and feel better in the morning?
I don't really know, but here it is.
Take it or leave it.
Do you ever wonder if you're just meant to be a cheerleader when all you really want to do is score the winning goal?
I'd love to hear your thoughts.

2 comments:

jenness said...

Hey you. I understand. Completely. But if it helps at all...I don't think you're actually meant to be a cheerleader and not because you can't look pretty. :-) Now get your butt in gear and write! You promised to send me something soon. :-)

Beth K. Vogt said...

Cathy,
Yep, you used the "H" word--Honesty.
I like that in a gal--and a writer.
Cheerleader or quarterback?
As I scrolled through your blog, I couldn't help but notice the button for WordServe--and that Rachelle is your agent.
Methinks she thinks your a quarterback.
:O)