Declare yourself!

I am an author.

That, my Friends, is a declaration.

What does it mean to declare a thing?

And how does one declare something?

About five years ago, I realized that if I was going to actually become the thing that empassions me most, an author, then I better start doing something to make that passion happen. No more making excuses for all the reasons I can't do my passion thing. No more setting that thing aside. It's time to own it.

But where to start?

Being an author wasn't a choice. It's a thing that consumes me. Writings often move through me. Sure, I get to "take credit" for the things I produce, but they aren't of me.

When I chose to declare being an author as my passion, I had to make some very determined changes in my life. I have a bunch of kids. I have a job. I have a husband. I have a house. I have pets. I have cleaning. I have cooking. I have stuff going on in my world - every day, every moment. I can't escape that stuff...

...or can I?

Well, maybe escape isn't the right word. But something had to give, and it wasn't me that had to give it. I'm giving plenty already, after all!

So what had to give in order for me to pursue that passion that overtakes me and consumes me?

I needed to make a compromise in my daily life; a declaration for myself and for my passion.

I decided to declare myself an author. As an author, I need to wake up earlier in the morning to write.

It quickly became apparent that I needed to make a declaration to my husband as well. I needed to expose my passion to him so I wouldn't be disrupted in the midst of my passion action.

This was so much harder than I thought it would be.

Stating to my husband, "In the mornings, I'm going to begin getting up at 5:00. When you see me typing away, or journaling, or staring off into space, I need to request that you not disrupt me. I am taking the time between 5:15 and 6:15 every morning to write."

I thought this was really straight-forward.

It wasn't straightforward enough.
But it wasn't his fault!

He was supportive of me, after all, in his words and actions. He'd ask me things like, "How's the writing going this morning?" Or, "Would you like some more coffee?" It's not like these things were intentionally disrupting my flow.

And yet, they were definitely disrupting my flow.

It takes me, on average, 45 minutes of trial and error to finally find my rhythm in my writing. Every time I'm disrupted, it takes a few minutes to find that flow again. Also, often, I write toward an end-point or idea that I write into, and when that flow is disrupted, that end-point sometimes dissipates. I have no idea where the idea goes, or why I can't reconnect with it, but it's definitely gone.

This is {{{mildly!!!}}} frustrating.

Eventually, I had to make another declaration to my husband. I spoke with him before bed one evening. "Please, I know this sounds rude, but I need you to not talk to me in the mornings when I'm in the middle of my writing time. I'm telling you this now so that I have the space in the morning that I need to focus and to write."

Was he offended?

Yeah.

He was definitely offended...

...But...
...he also got it.

It took him a few days (or months) to recognize what I meant, but he did get it.
With my persistent declaration, he got it.

I kept declaring my space and my time which enabled me to declare my passion.

This declaration has made appearances in all aspects of my life after conquering those first two declarations (the first to myself, the second to my husband).

I've made the declaration to myself (the hardest declaration, by far), and then to my husband, and to my kids, and eventually to the rest of my family and to my co-workers and to my boss(es); and finally to you!

My declaration has reigned.

Everyone I know understands that I am an author. In order to be an author, I must have time to write. That is my declaration.

And, indeed I am an author.

I have declared it so!

(I also have books to back up my declaration - but I wouldn't have those if I hadn't made that initial declaration.)

So, what's your declaration?

And what are you gonna do about it?

Hugs,

Brooke

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