ASH AMBIRGE

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Look, We’ve All Got Our Faults. *Stomps Cigar*

In: WTF Find Your Fucking Voice

Look, we’ve all got our faults.

I, for one, have a wrinkly ass neck. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know when it happened. But all the sudden there are lines as deep as the Panama Canal cutting across my trachea.

Fortunately, all the resveratrol I’ve consumed over the years seems to have spared my face…so far. Or, I don’t know, maybe I should be thanking Laura Mercier for that. Ever since I was twenty one, I’ve been wearing tinted moisturizer with SPF, and apparently, SPF ACTUALLY WORKS. Who knew?

But, SPF can’t save me from everything, you know? It can’t save me from my total lack of ability to love email. It can’t save me from getting hot and bothered when customers are jerks. It can’t save me from overextending myself on the regular—despite knowing better.

But that’s okay. It doesn’t have to.

Because you know, these things called faults are nouns for a reason—because they exist.

You got ‘em. I got ‘em. We’ve all got ‘em.

And sometimes, you’ve gotta learn how not to give yourself such a hard time about them—and start getting curious about them, instead.

This is the only way we get past ‘em, people.

For example, when I know I’m writing a crap book chapter, I could spend the rest of the day being an asshole to myself about it. Why couldn’t I think straight today?! Why couldn't I come up with the perfect ending?! Why do I write at the pace of a geriatric?! FML!

Or, I could choose to get curious about it.

I wonder why I couldn’t think straight today—what didn’t I give myself? What nourishment am I missing? Did I get enough sleep? How can I make sure I do better today?

OR

I wonder why I couldn’t nail that ending. I must need a break. I’m usually really good at endings, so maybe if I take a time out, I’ll do better when I get back.

OR

I wonder why I write at the pace of a geriatric. It must be because I love to get every word just right. It’s one of the reasons why I’m great at what I do. It’s what people pay me to do. I should be so grateful that I have the patience to get it right.

I guess the woo woos call this mindset. (Or some other equally annoying word.) And maybe that’s exactly what it is, but you know what?

If I hadn’t gotten curious about my weaknesses, I wouldn’t have known to exercise those muscles in order to grow.

And grow I have.

Just this past Friday, the literary agency of my dreams sent over an official author/agency agreement (yes, I DID run around telling everyone I know), and you know how I made that happen?

By getting curious every time I didn’t want to write.
By getting curious every time I resisted sending the pitch.
By getting curious every time I tried to talk myself out of it.

I could have faulted myself from here until the day I die for not doing it. But you know what I did instead? Figured out what was stopping me…and then figured out a way around the detour.

In other words, I got curious about myself.

And then, I got real.

Because turns out, curiosity didn’t kill the kat—it killed your excuses.

And then all you’re left with?

Is yourself.

Perhaps both the scariest, and the most exciting, place to be of all.

 

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