That Time I Almost Became Famous
I was almost famous.
I received an e-mail from a national radio show on CBC asking for a chat to see if I would be a good fit for their show. I kept re-reading the e-mail trying to figure out if it was actually CBC or instead some skinny, manipulating little weasel from God-Knows-Where with the tell tale “click here to deposit your fame!” link embedded somewhere. I’m smart enough to not fall for the money scams, but when it comes to my dreams coming true; I’m not sure I’ll be so level headed. It turns out it was a real actual producer from CBC. How in the hell did she ever find me? I have no idea. The fact that she read my blog and then contacted me was truly reward enough.
We set up a phone call and I buzzed around for a couple days trying to figure out what she would ask me. The things I didn’t know were overwhelming so I focused on the three things I knew I needed to control.
1. Not to sound like a stoner.
Those that know me know that I can tend to be monotone. Oh, whom am I kidding? I can sound like an 18-year-old girl that just got back from a weekend music festival doing bad things. I’ve tried to fix this, believe me. No self-respecting adult wants to permanently sound like they just smoked marijuana. Sometimes when I talk to my kids, my tone is more expressive; but for the most part I am cursed with stoner voice.
2. Who am I? Why am I writing a blog?
Ok, this one is heavy. The real answer is that I’m 31 and I’ve lived my whole entire life waiting for some magical career that I feel so passionate about to suddenly open up to me. I’ve waited for all the money to pour from the sky and make me rich. I’ve waited for the right time to finish my University degree. I’ve just fucking waited for so long for so many things and you know what? I’m sick of waiting. I am so tired of trying to be perfect before I even get started. So, I started writing because I LIKE writing. I feel at home when I write. Writing releases me; it makes living seem worth it. I’m just a regular, under-educated gal with my two kids living a regular life but dreaming the bigger dreams and trying to make it all fit in a day.
3. Why am I worth being on national radio?
Why would anyone want to listen to me? I got stuck on this one. It is so easy to tell yourself a million reasons why you don’t deserve something or why no one cares about you. There are currently hundreds of people in my city alone writing personal blogs who are just as interesting and probably smarter than me. Possibly even better looking. (possibly) What makes me special? What if my complete plainness, my total average life is in fact, remarkable? If I were writing this blog for other people, I wouldn’t take any joy in it. But I find joy because I write it for myself, I write it to serve. To say to even just one person “I’m there too!” and to make sure that the colourful part of me doesn’t die a tragic death in between diaper changes and loan repayments.
So, needless to say, when the call came I hadn’t figured much out. I spoke with the producer for about half an hour and she was lovely and kind. I had fun in a nervous way. I spent the next couple days waiting to hear back if I would actually appear on the show or not. I kept thinking of all the things I wish I had said, or things I did say that made no sense.
I heard back a couple days later.
“Thanks!” She said. “I really liked talking to you and you had some really interesting things to say, but in the end it's not quite what we're looking for on this show.”
Ok. So I won’t lie, it was a bit of a burn. I read the e-mail in the middle of a family vacation. I looked up from my phone and my eyes were met with the breathtaking Rocky Mountains.
‘But, I was supposed to be famous.’ I thought. ‘How will everyone know my name if I’m not on the RADIO?’
Then I thought ‘But, the host is from New Brunswick just like me and we would have had so much fun! Hmm, maybe I can come up with the most amazing, wittiest tweet ever and then the host will say BUT WE HAVE TO HAVE HER ON THIS SHOW SHE IS SO GOOD AT TWITTER!’
Alas, I completely fucking suck at twitter.
And then, in that moment, that moment before you tumble deep and low into all the reasons why that thing you do doesn’t matter (because someone else is doing it bigger/better/badder); I remembered something.
I remembered that everyone gets rejected. Literally. EVERYONE.
And truly, that CBC producer gave me an amazing gift. She gave me focus, she asked me questions that made me think about why am I doing this and why does it matter? I’ve answered them both in my heart and I feel even more inspired now to keep writing. To keep putting myself out there even when it seems ordinary and plain. Even when I don’t think anyone will read it. You do the tasks of the heart for no one but yourself, because if you don't, then you're just another person carrying around buckets of things they wish they were doing.
So, my lovely little average reader. I’m speaking directly to you. Yes, you there, the one that feels like they missed many boats. That your floor is littered with crumbled pieces of broken dreams and deflated aspirations. You, who didn’t do life in the normal order. Maybe you haven’t gone to university; you have kids outside of marriage; you divorced before you turned 30. Maybe you are a stay-at-home mom raising young kids and trying to figure out how you can start a brand new career. You keep waiting for something, some feeling to jump out at you while you work a job that slowly sucks your soul but it pays the bills. You see people doing things they love, making money doing the things they love. You see people who own houses and aren’t in debt. You watch other women raise kids and wear high heels and be all CEO and shit. You watch all this and you think, how do I even begin? I know you, I know you. And while I don’t have any answers, I will say this. Start with the small things. The little whispers that lead you to a place of interest. Someday all of those little steps will lead you to a version of yourself that is a braver, more creative, more passionate and more completely you. I believe it!
And someday, when I am a famous writer (cough, CBC, cough), everyone will look back to this measly little blog and say “I can’t believe it all started with that shitty little blog post about Death and Blow Jobs”