This week, I’m telling the story of my Playing Big journey. If you didn’t catch it earlier, you can read Part 1 here.
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Thanksgiving 2008, I wrote my very first blog post. It was written on a free template site I’d set up in a few minutes. It was a blog that had no readers, no subscribers.
What did I think I was doing at that time?
I knew I had always loved to write.
I knew that in my heart of hearts, if I really got honest about it, I did want to write about personal growth, psychology, spirituality – even as the Ivy League grad and Stanford MBA voice in me thought that sounded at best unconventional and at worst, really flakey and possibly embarrassing.
I also knew that even if I could get past those worries, I’d be rather stuck, because I’d lost my writing muscles.
In the third grade, my best friend Judy and I decided we’d write a poetry book. We got together week after week and wrote poems about lemonade, jump rope, our parents, our pets. We weren’t worried about whether the poems were good or not. That had nothing to do with it.
That was the way writing began for me – imaginative, playful, giddy even. But over the years in school, I learned that there was such a thing as a good writer, or a less good writer. I got A’s on papers. People told me I was a great writer. I won some writing awards.
But then other times things didn’t go that well. Sometimes I entered a writing contest and didn’t make it past the first round. Sometimes a particular teacher didn’t like my writing and gave me a grade that stung. I didn’t have any grown ups in my life who really knew how to explain that part to me.
So I wondered, “Was I okay at this or not? Was I ‘good’? Was what I had to say something people liked, or not?”
You can guess what happened next. Once those questions take center stage, it’s the end of any creative pursuit.
I went off to college where writing workshops involved not only the teacher but all the other students marking up your work with red pen and telling you what they did and didn’t think worked about it – and well – my fragile, little artist self didn’t have the thick skin for it. She went packing.
I lost writing. I took what I call “a seven year sabbatical from writing, sponsored by my inner critic.”
But seven years into it, the frozen feeling started to get really painful. There was that inner voice that began saying to me, “Write, write.”
I said back, “No, I’m taking a coaching training program right now, and I have a full time job. I’m going to focus on those things.”
And it said, quite clearly, “Write, just write.”
I finally listened. I sat down to write.
The words didn’t come.
The white, blank Word document was just very white, and very blank.
I would write a few lines and reread them. I always hated them. They were clunky, stilted.
I struggled like that for weeks, sitting down at the laptop and writing in a slow, plodding, utterly flow-less way. Then I’d read what I’d just written and cringe.
I would imagine other people reading it – the novelist friend or my husband or my old writing seminar professors. I’d hear them saying it was cheesy. I’d hear them saying, “Um, yeah, nice try, dear.”
But one day, I had an entirely new thought. It sounded like this,
“Tara, if you are going to write, you are going to have to write for yourself. You are going to have to set aside this whole thing about what anyone else thinks.
You might even have to set aside what you think about your writing.
You are going to have to write not to produce something ‘good,’ but because you are a woman who loves writing. That’s your reason to write, because it’s you, honey. This is for you.”
That day, I could write, and the words came easier. Topics to write about came easier. That day, I wrote for me. And to this day, that is why I write. Because life gave other people a love for running or singing or working with numbers, and it planted in me a love for this.
Sometimes, playing big is simply taking back who we are and what we love.
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I would love to support you in playing big, also. My Playing Big course is now open for registration! I hope you’ll join us for this incredible experience that can help you start playing bigger in just the ways you want to. Come learn more about it here.
I imagine it is very hard to relate to this for the vast majority of people without an Ivy League education and a Stanford MBA. If you are trying to carve out an elite following, I am sure you will have great success. In this day and age of painful inequality and staggering examples of white privilege, I would hope that public voices would try to be accessible to all people. Best of luck.
I love how your voice speaks through your writing.
I hear my thoughts also saying.. “write just write….my voice needs to heard”.
Thanks Tara I found this really inspiring
I love how your voice speaks through your writing.
I hear my thoughts also saying.. “write just write….my voice needs to be heard”.
Thanks Tara I found this really inspiring
Thank you!
I get great insights and inspiration from your blog writing Tara. I am currently working on my own life to Play Bigger! Actually, when I was a kid at one point, though writing isn’t my “special thing,” I “wrote a book” when I was maybe nine, and called a publisher on the phone (this was around 1970!) and told the man that answered, “I wrote a book.” and he responded something like, well great, thank you. And we hung up and that was the end of that lol. Just a funny story.
Alice: In this day and age of painful inequality and examples of white privilege? As compared to the more equal past? Let’s try to appreciate everyone for the qualities they have to share.
Thank you for sharing insights into your journey, funny how I started writing a blog after I read a newsletter from Michael Masterson in 2009 in which he said, “If you want to be a writer, just start writing.”
Last year, I used several of my blog posts as inspiration for my latest book, Get Unstuck Now.
It’s women like you who inspire me to believe in new possibilities and for I want to thank you for showing up and playing BIG.
Warm Regards
I understand what Alice is saying. I didn’t relate to the education reference either. I mean, I can not fully appreciate it’s significance. I understand that the school’s mentioned are prestigious. So, I just sort of glossed over that sentence, but it does give a certain flavor to Tara’s experience that, as Alice states, gives the reader an example of “white privilege”. And, you’re right about pointing out that nothing has really changed in our attitudes about race and privilege. Maybe on the surface we all have a right to education, a right to vote, a right to (fill in the blank). Instead of comparing ourselves to the past we should keep looking ahead while taking the past and its mistakes into consideration and being sensitive and thoughtful of the people you’re trying to reach. I guess that audience is up to the writer. I have found Tara’s writing very useful, despite my not being able to fully relate to all her references. There’s an art to gleaning and it’s probably one that’s learned over time and with a positive attitude of, “what can I take away from this?” Peace
Tara, I love the realization that you came to about the “wrting being for you”. Reading those words on the screen allowed my own inner voice of wisdom to reveal clearly what it’s been telling me all along. My writing is for me. It is me and how I see the world and all that happens to me. Thanks for sharing your truth.
Yes, I hear you echoing my thoughts and those of, no doubt, hundreds of thousands creatives.
As my eyes progressed through the text, along with sympathetic reading hiccups and all, I could hear own voice say : ” yes, of course it’d be ill-flowing… it is stifled…”
Thank you for making it this far. You are the bravest, most ground breaking character in your story, and I cannot thank you well nor enough for being you.
… So i bow.
“You are going to have to write not to produce something ‘good,’ but because you are a woman who loves writing. That’s your reason to write, because it’s you, honey. This is for you.”
*sigh* Thank you for giving volume to my little inner voice; she’s been whispering this for so long. Paralyzed by my perfectionism, I’ve been cradling your book on my nightstand, afraid to even highlight it the wrong way, as I know it is brimming with goodness I will return to over the years. I am digging into your workbook now and I look forward to scrawling all over the hardback tonight. Thank you for the inspiration. <3