I’m Still Doing This: Celebrating An Anniversary As A Writer
15 years ago today, I published my first kids’ books. Ask anyone who’s written or published in this sphere, and they’ll probably give you the “its’ been a wonderful, wild ride” spiel. And I will do the same, because it really has been a wonderful, wild ride. Today, I will be eating homemade cupcakes (plural) with too much frosting, and reminiscing. In the style of most philosophers who are also writers, I’ll also be asking myself what it all means and why I’m doing it.
Even while celebrating 15 years, in the presence of multiple cupcakes, I will tell you that at the moment, it isn’t easy being a writer of any kind. Today, while I go about my writerly business, I will bemoan the decline in attention spans, shudder as I think of all the AI slop clogging up the works, and scratch my head about marketing and sales. I will wonder who’s reading, what they think, and whether it’s making any difference. Standard fare, really.
The world is currently writing itself into a tragedy. I feel more like dropkicking inanimate objects, or going back to bed than I do parking myself in a chair and being productive. It’s tough to go to work, to know where to start, to decide what to put down on the page, to figure out how I’m going to get anyone to listen. It’s ironic, because there is just so much to write about, and this is kind of what I signed on for when I decided to write and philosophize for a living. Stories without conflict aren’t really stories. They’re greeting cards. Philosophy without doubt and confusion isn’t really philosophy. It’s more like a decorative sign hanging in someone’s kitchen.
Whether it’s by nature, by nurture, or by sheer free will, I seem to have ended up working as a sneaky little disruptor. I write stuff that encourages wee folk to voice to all those weird, complicated questions they typically keep bottled up. I like to build books that make room for curiosity, critical thinking, and empowerment. I pair independence and reason with cartoon characters and rhyming verse.
So, 15 years in, I’m pretty tired, and a little disgruntled.
But I’m not done.
It’s become much clearer over the past decade and a half that the way we see our kids, what we’re asking of them, what we’re heaping onto them, is abysmal. However hard it is to be a philosopher and a writer, in the midst of all this crap, it is so much harder to be a child. I see you, kiddos, and all that you’re up against-the (still going) plague, the war, and the wizening of time and resources. So, I’m still doing this.
And yup, I’m aware that I’m not a best-selling author. I get that what I put out there falls through cracks in drips and dribbles, not in rushes and waves. I’m not spearheading any major movements. I don’t have a Wikipedia page. However, in times of crap, you use the skills and abilities you have to try and help lessen said crap. This thing with words and ideas, this is what I’m good at. This is what I have to offer. So, I’m still doing this.
I am so grateful for the opportunities I’ve had, to write, to publish, to mess around in new formats and platforms. Writing for kids gives you leave to play and to imagine, to explain big things the way you wish you’d had them explained to you. I get to be the kind of philosopher I really want to be because of it. I’m thankful for the readers who’ve reached out to let me know something I made actually helped them in some way. The awards have been nice too, but you know…
More than anything, I’m so incredibly appreciative of everyone else out there who’s decided that making, writing, speaking, singing, and performing, especially in the service of children, is how they can best help, that as hard as it’s become, it’s still not too much or too hard for them. My heart leaps when I see and hear other contributions, however small. It’s so important to keep trying.
There will be a year 16 for me as a writer, even in all of this craziness. With any luck, there will be many more. At some point today, probably while I’m buzzing after my second or third cupcake (don’t you judge me), I’ll think of the long list of stuff I’ve yet to put out there, the prompts and nuggets that await my attention. I’ll check the news and cringe a little (or a lot), and I’ll want to go dig up weeds, or fold laundry, or answer all my flagged emails instead. I’ll remind myself that this is, and was always, part of the deal. For all kinds of reasons, I’m still doing this.