this is the blog where we talk about the stuff.

At any point from about 1989 to this moment, if you would have asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have told you: “I want to be a writer.”

Not even an author.  I didn’t even want to be published.  Just wanted to sit in a room with a typewriter or a massive computer circa 1990 and write.  This is an introverted extrovert’s dream.  Or at least this introverted extrovert’s dream.

Last week, Relevant published a blog post by Jeff Goins.  You can read it here (but can you wait, just real quick?), but the gist is that people have dreams and that’s all fine and well, but they need muscle behind them.  I think he alluded to Eminem at one point, so you understand where I’m going.  You have one life.  Live it.  Don’t be scared of what you’ve been commissioned to do.  Or, as Uncle Frederich says: “Here is the world.  Beautiful and terrible things will happen.  Don’t be afraid.”  He says it better than me.  Go figure.

I was so glad that Jeff Goins pushed submit on his blog entry, because he forced me to write this post.  Back in July, I became part of a two person team that started writing a book.

A fiction book.

Commence your groaning now.

I’ll wait.

Ok.  Now, it’s my turn.  Megan (whom I have been friends with for about two years and probably eternity on some plane)  and I have been working on this book (with the wonderful Amy as our illustrator general), and we’re going to publish it ourselves next October (10/11/12).  In order to publish it ourselves, in addition to be completely crazy, we have to market it ourselves, we have to generate interest in it ourselves, and of course, we had to write it ourselves.  The fun part was writing, and now apparently, the hard work begins.

We had a meeting with a wise man who knows infinitely more about any of this than we do, and he implored us to have a ‘thing’.  A gimmick, if you will.  That makes it sound cheap, but don’t worry, because what I’m about to tell you will drown out the cheap and just make me sound generally certifiable.

Megan and I have assumed pen names (can you hear 7th grade Erin jumping for joy?), and basically, we have assumed the online personalities of (wait for it) two eighty year-old women who pen letters to each other and have decided to write a novel to stay out of the assisted living home.

Can you imagine what this is like for me?  To just broadcast my crazy all over the internet?  It’s worse than when my parents grounded me from the Valentine’s Dance.  It’s just so much worse.

Here’s where you come in.  Today starts our social media push to “generate interest”.  Do you know how ridiculous I feel talking to you about this?  It cannot be measured.  So here’s what I’m asking.  If this kind of thing interests you (i.e.: fiction, hopefully what amounts to a good story, people doing stuff on their own, or just because we’re friends…), we would love you til the day we died if you’d follow us on Twitter (@wyattandwynn) or ‘like’ us on Facebook (facebook.com/wyattandwynn).  And if you have friends who are interested in grown women turning into some version of Grey Gardens/Golden Girls on display via the internet, we’d love it if you’d tell them about the book and about our alternate personalities: Wyatt & Wynn.

We’re going to be doing a Kickstarter campaign (because, dag yo, self-publishing be expensive), and we’re going to have a newsletter where we’ll be doing some fun surprises before the book releases (in 400 years).  So if that is your bag, we’d love to see your social media-ed face on either of our internet homes.  If not, we have great respect for that, as there are a lot of places on the internet I do not care to tread (i.e.: CosPlay forums, anything having to do with community gardening, and MySpace).  I’m going to commit to NOT badgering you on this blog about the book, although it’s only my lifelong dream, so please don’t be annoyed if I mention from time to time.  I mean, I guess you can be, but don’t expect me to sympathize with you.

I’m kidding.  I’m a total people pleaser.  There will be much sympathy.

There are people who have inspired me just in general in my life, who I’ve probably never taken the time to thank.  These people are my dear friends and family, who were (at least feigning like they were) excited when I told them about this project, listened to me beat it to death, but truly just encouraged me, either with specific words or actions, or just being themselves and living their dreams out so other people who are frightened can see that it can, in fact, be done.  There are people who are helping us in ways we can’t repay (literally, because we don’t have the money), but we hope one day we can.  It’s amazing the group of people who I call friends, because you wouldn’t believe how absolutely talented they are, and how generous they are with their giftings.  There is so much more I can (and WILL) say about this, but I hope that for now, a simple and very heartfelt ‘thanks’ is heard from me, to you.

So there it is.  We’re writing a book.  It’s the first of seven.  It’s called The Last Beholder.  It’s written by two old broads named Wyatt & Wynn.  We couldn’t (and can’t) do it without a group of wonderful people who we love and love us.  There is so much gratefulness in my heart, I don’t even understand how to process it.  We’re actually really excited about it, despite my nervousness/reluctance to tell people of its existence.  We think the story is great, and I hope you do too.

If you need me, I’ll be throwing up somewhere.  Thanks, internet, for letting me spill my guts.

On Twitter: @wyattandwynn
On Facebook: facebook.com/wyattandwynn
The book site: thelastbeholder.com
The author site: wyattandwynn.com

StoryCorps is a non-profit organization that encourages listening by recording the stories of people in your life.  I frequently hear StoryCorps recordings on NPR and basically always end up in tears or laughter.  It’s a great idea, and a great show.

On November 27th, StoryCorps is hosting their 2nd annual National Day of Listening.  You can learn more here, but basically, you pick an interview subject and ask them questions about their life.  I’ve decided to do three subjects: my Nene, my Papa Hicks, and my Mama.  These are my three living grandparents and I am excited about learning more about their lives.

The National Day of Listening website has a DIY guide that tells you everything you need to get started, as well as a question generator, which is helpful.  There are some really good questions on there, but feel free to make up your own.

I’m doing this because I don’t want the stories of my grandparents to be lost to time.  I want to know them in my heart, so I can pass them on to Holland and our other kids.

So, if you decide to participate, let me know and we can all share our stories!

Today on Don Miller’s blog, he gives us a hint to what the endless cycle of self-promotion is doing to him.  It’s very funny and well-written (as always…you disgust me), but he said something that’s been stuck in my head all day.  You can read the whole thing here, but this is the quote that got me:

“Confession: Half the time, if not more than half, I am full of bullshit. I share what will make me look good. If I am vulnerable, I share just enough vulnerability to be perceived as vulnerable, rather than to actually humiliate myself so that others can talk more openly about their own insecurities. I also leak in my accomplishments, and I’ve become a master at it. I don’t even know I am doing it half the time, and the other half I strategically list my accomplishments so that they come off as dismissive or “in passing.”

Gah, if that didn’t cut me to the bone, I don’t know what could.  First of all, it’s incredibly refreshing to hear someone say that they are, in fact, full of BS.  Because, let’s be frank with one another, we all are.  Especially as believers.  I am so worried about coming off as (insert postmodern adjective here), that I’ve missed, oh, the whole point.  And hearing Don Miller, best-selling author who loves Jesus and whom I happen to admire both as a writer and a person, say that HE is full of BS is freeing to me.  Oh, he’s full of it, too? Huh.  How about that? Even when I am trying not be full of BS and be real, I’m only being real for the sake of hoping people will look at me and think, wow, Erin is so real. And now I’m sure you’re all thinking, yeah, dummy, no kidding.  You aren’t fooling anyone.

Either way, I wonder if you can even get past this.  Can you ever be real because you are real and not because you want people to think you are?  Can you ever be vulnerable because you want to help others and not because you want to show everyone how vulnerable you are?  Maybe it’s just me, but I wonder if I can.  I don’t think I can.  It’s like this one time at the Robinson’s house, we told the stories of the Worst Thing We’ve Ever Done.  And I told this story about how I joined in with a group of my peers in elementary school and tricked a retarded boy into sitting on a brownie.  And if you can believe it, that’s not actually the worst thing I’ve ever done (hard to swallow, but it’s true).  I’m sitting here, right now, thinking of the actual worst thing I’ve ever done and there’s NO WAY I’d share that on this blog or on the Robinson’s back deck or want to relive it in my head.  So now I’m even BS-ing myself.

So I had this conversation with my friend Jon today.  Jon and I are basically the same person in two different genders.  He is, undoubtedly, one of the coolest people I know, an excellent writer, and my only regret is that I didn’t meet him earlier so we could be better friends when we lived in the same town. Anyway, I feel God calling me to work with people who have AIDS.  Or something.  I have NO idea what that even looks like.  Does that mean I take meals to people who can’t because they have AIDS?  Does that mean Ben and I adopt an AIDS orphan?  Does that mean I need to clean bathrooms at Birmingham AIDS Outreach so someone else can be equipped to love?  I don’t know.  I really don’t.  But either way, I feel this call to do something with people who are dying or have been affected by the AIDS epidemic.  Anyway, Jon was asking me about that, because, incidentally, he’s sort of been approached by some people to get involved in that way as well (because we are the same person).  And I started thinking about why I feel God’s called me to this.  Why don’t I care about old people?  Or people with diabetes?  I need to be doing something with a cause that is socially relevant so I can be compassionately hip?  Is it because I’m bored?  Because I feel like I NEED to do something or Jesus won’t love me?  What is my motive?  Are they even in the same country as “pure”?  And should I even been THINKING about this crap, because people just need to be loved and cared for and my motives should be secondary to someone getting sponsored by Compassion or getting a meal because their son just had brain surgery.  Shouldn’t it?  Wasn’t it Paul that said I don’t care what your motives are for preaching the gospel, I’m just glad the gospel getting preached (I’m clearly paraphrasing)?

I would never (in a million years) reveal my flaws unless they were going to make you like me more.  WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M DOING NOW.  IT CAN’T BE STOPPED.  Because what would you think of me?  Did I reveal too much?  Was I inappropriate?  More than likely, yes.  Which would cause you to feel uncomfortable around me and dislike me.  And I so desperately need you to like me.

This is all really convoluted and I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say, other than I identify with Mr. Miller in that I’m full of BS.  And I don’t want to be.  It’s sort of like your wedding day.  I have pictures of my wedding up all over my house.  And I look awesome in them.  A real makeup artist did my makeup.  Friends that know their way around a straightening iron did my hair.  It’s shockingly not in a ponytail.  I’m about 45 pounds lighter and am wearing some gravity-defying undergarments.  I’m wearing high heels, for crying out loud.  But that’s not what I look like.  That was the best version of myself.   And I even had a little moment of “Oh, Erin.  She keeps it real” when I took OFF my high heels and put on my flip-flops during the reception.  What a kook!  I spent the day BS-ing.  Actually, I spent about 6 hours BS-ing.  By the time Ben and I got to the hotel room, I’d already spilled sweet potatoes on my wedding dress.  Just goes to show you can’t keep BS-ing for that long.

I guess the moral is that just like I have an amazing husband who can somehow connect the dots from the day we got married to the nightmare that he awakens to every morning, I am also surrounded by people and a Savior who can look through my BS and still see me, crappy me, that is incredibly insecure about…oh…everything, and care about me and love me in spite of myself.  And there is grace for me, even in my incredibly selfish inner turmoil-ish monologue about how stupid and ridiculous I am.  I know there are people out there who are not BS-ers (I know a few of them) and I salute you.

Now tell me your secret.

Hey everyone,

The site is back up and running, thanks to a literal team of people who are way smarter than I am.  I’m still working out some of the kinks, so your patience is appreciated.  Hopefully, we’ll be back up and running by the beginning of next week, but I make no promises.

Have a great weekend!