I think I have completely lost my mind as a writer.

Or at least, I have completely lost my bearings. In the last two years I had become somewhat disillusioned with freelance writing, telling friends often that if I wasn’t trying to make a living at it then it really wasn’t worth my time. And this bears out, to a degree – the money that I make as a freelancer never really justified the work. In addition, the nice little mixed grill of shyness, social awkwardness and stage fright that composes a large part of my personality always makes interviewing people, even over the phone, a turn-off. My first job was as a telemarketer, and every time I call someone to do an interview, I am immediately back there, in my mind, with the pushy script and irritable customers whose dinner I have interrupted with my inanity.

What makes interviewing worthwhile is that once my subject and I are off and rolling, I find the whole thing really enjoyable, especially when he or she is teling me things that I can actually picture between quote marks, in print. And then, once I’m writing and I look up and see that I’ve become so invested in my subject that time has started to pass in a vacuum and I’m two hundred words past what my editor has limited me to – two hundred words I’m excited to have written, well.

So last year when I conceived The Great Oklahoma Road Trip I thought it would make good blog filler. Earlier this year I realized that I could have a potential audience of around 55,000 or so for those pieces, 55,000 people I could share these wonderful places in this state I love so much with, I got really excited. I pitched it to my editor, and he got really excited, and every time I would turn in a piece to him he’d write back some nice little note thanking me for my contribution.

Then he asked me to do a story on very small cattle, sort of out of the blue, and when I first saw his pitch I thought, "Oh, God no." But something took over my hands and here I was writing him back saying, sure I’ll take it. It was money, after all, and I can always use it, especially now that I seem to be leaving the country two weeks from this Sunday. Then he asked me to pitch him some stories for the Gay Pride issue, and I pitched two. Then, I had a great idea and pitched another one. And so help me God, I’m having a blast doing it all. I’ve even learned to enjoy interviewing people, and have made a couple new friends in the process, AND to connect with a few old ones. ME! Enjoying things! Making friends! HOLY CRAP WHO IS THIS PERSON.

So in the meantime I’ve been trying to get my shit together to write a book. I’ve had some serious therapy sessions with myself, with some fellow artisticky types, and with my husband, God bless his poor heart, and I’ve realized that my stage fright actually extends into people whom I can’t see and don’t know reading words I have written about feelings that I have. Publishing terrifies me, and so I’ve decided that the way to combat it is to get my fraidy ass out there and read some stuff in public. This thought is slightly less terrifying to me than setting myself on fire, and yet slightly more incumbent than coming out was, so I think it’s the next right move. Someone please plan to join me and please, for the love of God, bring some Ativan. I’ll let you know once I set something up, but in the meantime, let’s all do our Lamaze together. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, Breathe out.

Now, commence freaking out.