Listen to Your Mother (and me, too)
A couple months ago, I threw caution to the wind and submitted a piece to the San Francisco Listen to Your Mother show. Then, a couple weeks later I showed up in person and read my own writing out loud. It was fairly awkward in that “do one thing that scares you” kind of a way. Those two steps in the audition process were as far as I ever expected to get.
I was proud to simply have “put myself out there” for judgement and consideration. More than anything, my little act of courage (because let’s be clear that was bravery on the part of my delicate ego) publicly marked a turning point in my life. For the past few months, I’ve been putting myself and my work “out there” left and right. Pitching story ideas to magazines and generally looking (and in some cases) creating the kind of creative work I want to be doing.
And in response, I’ve been ignored, turned down and accepted to various degrees. The first sucks – not going to lie. The second is disappointing and the third is always a thrill and never gets old. But in the end, I’m learning that what matters most is the work itself, not who likes it or where it’s published. I’m so thankful to be learning this lesson. I say learning because I’m pretty sure it’s the kind of lesson that is meant to be repeated throughout a lifetime.
The highlight of this creative season for me is, without a doubt, being cast among 12 Bay Area writers in San Francisco’s Listen to Your Mother Show. I read the news a couple of weeks ago and literally cried tears of joy in the middle of a corporate town hall-style meeting. It was slightly out of body and thankfully I was in a huge dark room listening to a Crystal Bowersox sing live about “living your dreams” and “having only one life” and oh my god, she must have written that song for me. Are we alone in this giant room together, because it feels like she’s singing directly to me? It remains a really lovely moment and a memory I’ll treasure forever.
This past weekend, I met my fellow cast members for our first LTYM rehearsal. We were all extremely nervous to read aloud to one another and discuss the details of the May 10 show (tickets are on sale – please come) with our two amazingly generous producers, Kim and Kirsten. Over and over, we laughed and cried and cheered and hugged. It felt like a pretty sacred experience and I’m overwhelmed with the idea of joining these ladies and one gentleman on stage. I was really proud of myself for putting my work “out there” but now I’m really proud to be a part of this group.
This is my long-winded way of saying if you are anywhere near San Francisco on May 10 maybe you’d like to cheer us on as we share are stories of motherhood. We’d be honored to share the night with you.