This picture is five years old. I am 22 years old here. Fresh out of journalism school and a new hire at The Osprey Observer, a newspaper that no longer exists. I look bitchy in this picture. Cold and sinister. Actually, I don’t look like myself at all. My hair hasn’t been this long in five years and the Blueberry iMac I’m using expired shortly after this picture was taken. I’m wearing a pink button-down shirt from the Goodwill that I just recently donated, among other things, to The Salvation Army.
The Osprey Observer, though now defunct, was published by the same family-owned string of community newspapers I currently write for.
The guy who took this picture, his name is Adam. He married my friend Kat who also worked for the paper. They live in Laramie, Wyo. now and I miss them like hell. When none of us had families or spouses or boyfriends or girlfriends to spend holidays with, Kat and Adam would host dinner parties at their home in Bradenton. There’s this beautiful scene in the movie Funny People that reminds me of these dinner parties. If you’ve not seen the movie, rent it when it comes out. Netflix it. When you watch the scene, where a group of young aspiring actors gets together for Thanksgiving dinner at an apartment in L.A., you’ll know what I’m talking about.
My eyes are narrowed and my lips are pursed in this picture because Adam liked to say things that would piss me off. There were these little grommet holes in our cubicle walls that if you stared through them, you’d see into your neighbor’s cube. This was how I first met Adam: through a shared hole in our cubicle walls, his one eye peering suspiciously at mine like two office-dwelling Cyclopes.
I knew nothing of Adam, but I certainly knew Kat. My editor had mailed me a stack of Observers prior to my move so I could get a better feel for the paper. Her byline was everywhere. She had written a story about a chef on Longboat Key named Marcella Hazen that I read a dozen times on the flight from Buffalo to Tampa.
Behind that glare I am scared shitless. Although scared shitless is not an ideal place to be, it defines you and drives you. I remember driving back to my apartment at night and pinching myself because I couldn’t believe I had a job as a reporter in a town with a ballet, an opera, an orchestra, and a circus! I was a nobody from a town nobody had heard of, wearing my first pair of high heels, barely sleeping at night because my nervous system was so shot from the move.
My bones, my brain, my organs were in shock. I was a fish out of water, more determined to find my place than ever before. I’ve not experienced this kind of hungry ambition in years, which frustrates me because above all, I consider, or rather I considered, myself ambitious.
Comfortable domesticity is a double-edged sword. It makes you fat. It makes you happy. It makes you do things like watch Jeopardy and eat mounds of chocolate fudge ice cream. It makes you laugh deep belly laughs and cook chicken and rice. It makes you care about knife blocks and throw pillows. It forces you to vacuum. At least for me it does.
I’m in love with my husband and the life we’ve built. I’m writing this from my bed with the pug snoring beside me, the dishwasher running through its last cycle and Joe watching the 11 o’clock news in the living room. Soon I’ll pull the sounds and smells of Thursday night around me like a blanket and sleep snuggled next to him. When I wake up, I’ll make coffee and eat cereal, kiss him before he goes to work and walk the pug contentedly before retreating to my office to write a story about Giselle. The ballet, not the model.
It didn’t hit me until yesterday as I went to put on my first pair of high heels that I’m frittering away precious baby-less time. The heels, once taut and painful, are now bagged out, the leather supple and worn in. Worn in is fine if we’re talking about sofas, but high heels are something entirely different. There should be mild discomfort and blisters. The straps should hug your feet and the heels themselves should be intact. When I bent to take the shoes off I remembered the pug had chewed both tips off when he was a puppy making them almost impossible to walk in.
Ambition, like high heels, requires a certain amount of endurance. Discipline. Control. Obedience. You can walk in high heels. You can run in high heels. You can if you so choose, climb a hill in high heels but it’ll take effort and perseverance.
My career goal – even as a 10-year-old – was to write a novel. Just ask my mother. She recently discovered boxes of my grade school manuscripts and called to read me their titles. When I was in 5th grade I wrote a series of books titled Weirderville, in which ridiculous expressions (“It’s raining cats and dogs” and “I’m sweating bullets,” etc.) were everyday occurrences.
“Mom,” I snapped. “Why are you telling me this? To remind me of what an utter failure I am?”
Silence. (Why do I bark at my mother like this?)
“Jesus,” she sighed. “You’re not a failure.”
“Since I was a little kid, all I’ve ever wanted to do is publish a book and I’ve gotten NOWHERE with that.”
“Will you stop it. You’re busy. Stop worrying about it. You’ll write it one day.”
“Yes, but I want to write it now. Before I have babies.”
Later that night, I shared my frustrations with Joe.
“What if I aim for 15 pages a week? The way some people approach exercise?”
And then I told my friend Roger, who is currently working towards his MFA in Creative Writing at Florida Atlantic University, and he said, “I thought you were writing a book.”
And then I thought about telling my friend Ricci, who just last week had a photo published in the New York Times, but I already know what she’d say.
And then I told Joe’s sister Rosy and she said, “I bet if you got pregnant, you’d finish your book. You’d have a nine-month deadline.”
Now that’s motivation.
I should point out that my sister is a known crazy person.
I would also point out that your (excellent, as always) blog post grousing about not writing your book surely took hours to write — hours you could have spent writing the book.
Or, as my mom would say, “Shit or get off the pot already.”
That last comment (and this one too) are not Heidi. They are Joe. I can’t get her machine to log her out, so I’m posting as her.
Sorry for the confusion.
Is it really ambition that you need? Or courage and confidence? I mean, it’s evident to anyone that knows you, be it in the past or present, that it’s not ambition that you lack? Webster states that “ambition” is eager desire for success and power. And, while power may not be the key word here, success is.
Your ambition is there. You WANT to write that book. You DESIRE to write that novel that catches someones eye; that ends up on a best seller list somewhere, anywhere, be it in a highschool newspaper in small town USA or The New York Times.
Is your courage and confidence there? Or do you fear that it won’t catch someones eye, or end up on a list somewhere? That one day someone won’t ask someone else, “What’s your favorite book?” and the answer won’t be “That new one by Heidi Kurpiela-Bardi.”
Maybe I’m way off. But if I’m not, then consider this; if it is ambition that you lack, then deadlines are not the answer. Do you really want to write your book because you feel you HAVE to by a certain time? Or, do you want to write it because you have a love for writing and literature and have dreamed of such a feat since you were 10 years old?I mean, how will you feel if CAN’T come up with 15 pages a day? Or you CAN’T write a book in 9 months? Will you start to feel frustrated and just write things just to hit that deadline? And then feel frustrated because of it?
The story will come when it’s ready. When it’s finished in your head with no question of how the characters will interact or how they’ll get to and complete the final scene of the book. It will come when it’s ready and you can think of nothing more everyday after work of coming home and putting it on paper. “Forget the food, forget the water. I have a story to tell!”
Then, and only then, will that story end up on a best-seller list somewhere…even if it is in a highschool newspaper in small town, USA. 😉
Aww..First of all Misty-such kind and wise words 🙂
Second-she’s right Heidi-it will come..and you and I both need to stop putting everything into these little micro-managed pockets of time…like me, I’ll be skinny before the wedding, I’ll see some of the US by the time I get pregnant, I’ll buy a bigger house before baby number 2, etc, etc…we are both guilty of it..so let’s just stop. Let’s just continue to laugh and ride bikes and live
happily.
PS-Let’s go ahead and have babies around the same time ok? Book or not, trip to Vegas or not? I’d love for my kids to have built in best friends in Florida 🙂
I’m no novel writer, so you can take this or leave it…
I have a blanket I started almost the day I got pregnant with Addie. I was a first time mom and I thought “sure, I can take on a little crochet project and I’ll be finished by the time the baby comes. No problem. What else do I have to do?” Do you know how big that blanket is today? It’s about one foot by three feet. It’s only suitable for a abnormally short snake baby. (Neither of mine were.) I never finished it.
The point is, you’d think that deadline would push you to action, but it’s not really the case. I’m not going to say it’s because I was “nesting”–barf–or any of that other stuff they say moms get busy with, either. I split my time equally between balancing bowls of spaghetti and cereal on my belly and sleeping. Okay, and barfing, but that part’s not so awesome. I was the un-busiest I’ve ever been in my life and I still couldn’t make myself do it.
I know that’s not you, but I mostly just wanted to tell you about my baby snake blanket. To make matters worse, when I got pregnant with Henry I thought “I’ll just finish it and give it to him.” (Because I’m a mom that cares, you know?) But that was total BS too. My second pregnancy I just convinced Addie that nap time with mommy was her favorite activity. It’s the most beautiful blanket that will never be, and it’s shoved in Addie’s closet to this day because it makes me to sad to throw it out… but not sad enough to finish it.
Here’s my advice:
1) Have a baby. When you’re ready. They rock.
2) Write that book anyway. It’ll come to you, when the time is right.
PS I’ll buy your book and I’ll promote the crap out of it. I’m not just saying that because I know I can be all “she interviewed me by phone once”–but I will totally do that too. I love to read your writing. It inspires me, even on your Lance.
PPS Metaphors having to do with shoes are always a double blessing.
Have a great weekend!
“Ambition, like high heels, requires a certain amount of endurance. Discipline. Control. Obedience. You can walk in high heels. You can run in high heels. You can if you so choose, climb a hill in high heels but it’ll take effort and perseverance.”
what if you’re a 5’8″ lanky “cheese legged” (oma shout out) girl who just CANNOT walk in heels? 🙂
don’t stress over what you haven’t done – enjoy what you HAVE done! and believe me, it’s a LOT!
enjoy the small things in life, and when you finally write a book…
a) don’t put that picture in it 😉
b) i’ll buy at least 10 copies, and i want them signed!
c) i’ll make sure EVERYONE i knows buys one too!
xoxo from coldddddd NY!
Heidi,
Just do it! Have you heard of the focus booster program? You set the timer for 20 minutes then take a short break, repeat 5 times and then take a longer break.
Seriously, that book you wrote at 10 sounds like a great idea for a childrens book.
Whatever you write is gonna be great!
I believe in you Heidi! You have kept me hooked to reading your happy little blog this long I am just itching for the book….
I have lots of dreams (to write a book being among them…ohhhhh an make a giant quilt and take up rug hooking and learn to make tiramisu and learn to develop photos and I could go on) just start chipping away at them and life will not seem so daunting. I mean, you already write for a living, thats a start…. then try some short stories and work your way from there. I know exactly how you feel though, it is the just ‘getting started’ part…I want to write my theses, I need to write my theses, I am scared to write my theses… what if I am uninspired? What if I run out of time? What if I can’t defend it? I guess I just got to motor on and try my best….
-D
wait.. what would I say?
ps: I really like Rosy’s advice, especially cuz it would mean a little baby Heidi/Jo.. wait.. can we mix your names and call the future lil one Baby Ho?!
I am still in the convince-everyone-to-have-a-baby-because-babies-smell-wonderful phase of my life, s OBVIOUSLY I like Rosy’s advice. Ahhh, A BABY! Yes, have a baby! I’ll bet your baby would have a kick-ass sense of humor =)
That said, there’s that other pesky thing about Rosy’s advice. You know. The part about having a baby. Mine just spit up curdled milk in my mouth two hours ago. Yuck.
(I know you can write a book. But if you want to dance, you have to pay the fiddler, right?) (No, really. I know you can do it.)
Hey! Thank you guys for your Lance love and support. Ricci was so disturbed by this post she wrote me an email with the subject line: “troubled by recent blog post.” My mothership CALLED me to suggest writing a book about not being able to write a book. Sounds sort of Seinfeld to me. A show about nothing, no?
I’ll let this be the last time I kvetch about my inability to write. Joe (masquerading as me) is right. Shit or get off the pot. The fact that you all consistently provide such meaningful feedback inspires and motivates me in ways you’ll never know. 😉
I agree with your mom that you will do it someday, when you’re ready. And I have to say that I thought the same way as your friend – that I’d have a 9-month deadline and it would motivate me to finish all kinds of stuff. yeah, that didn’t happen. I spent the first half of those nine months feeling sick and the last few months I’ve been busy with other things that really do have to be finished by that deadline (like put together a place for the baby to actually sleep). My list of things to do? They’re still sitting on that list, just waiting for the right time.
Maybe you should do it now afterall? 🙂