Interview With A Dreamer

It is 9 am and already, I realize, I’m dreaming big. Or indulging in ridiculous fantasy. I’m not sure which.

A few days ago I got a sort of acceptance for an essay. The piece was (provisionally) accepted by a non-paying online publication, Literary Mama, and they want to make some editorial suggestions. They want me to be “willing to work to make this excellent piece even better.”

You would think I was publishing a book for all the dreaming I've been doing.

The first fantasy that popped into my head was that I would finish writing the short story about the high school girl with insecurities, it would be accepted, I would continue to write for young women and eventually found an online journal—akin to Literary Mama but for teenage girls. This would be after writing several essays for the Literary Mama, then being invited to write a regular column, and then working as a (finally paid) editor for one of their departments. You know, the kind of person that makes editorial suggestions to emerging creative writers.

Later, I caught myself in the car giving an imaginary interview. I had already answered several questions when I realized what I was doing.

“Well, when I was in academia, I always said I wasn’t a creative writer. And I still do love literary analysis. But that is what book clubs are for, right?” I laugh with my imaginary interviewer.

“It is such a luxury to be able to work from home, what with the kids. When I was finishing up my Masters Degree in English, I just decided that I did not want to live in a household with two academics. It took me a while to find my niche after that, but I believe that I have.”

“Well, certainly,” says my interviewer. “As your body of work proves.”

* * *

I am not generally a big dreamer. I’m not a pessimist, but not an optimist either. I don’t usually see the glass half full or half empty; I tend to believe that I should take a drink of water before I decide what to think. Perhaps it isn’t even water at all.

When I was late in labor with Henry, I was contracting every five minutes and barely able to talk, and yet I said to my friend Heidi, “Can you take Luke? I mean, we’ll see if I’m even in labor at all, but take him just in case.” Such are the statements of a tentative dreamer.

I remember what a joy it was to begin spending time with my friend Jenny, who truly understands the pain that comes in the package of life, but who still chooses to dream big, almost every day. I watched her grow as a freelance writer—because she is a great writer with unique vision, yes, but also because she believes that nothing is off limits. In the time I was her neighbor, Jenny sent articles off to all kinds of publications, sent show ideas to Oprah, wrote a children’s book, started a novel, and wrote two Everything books, among other things.

And from the first day I met her, Jenny has encouraged me to write. Even when she didn’t know if I could write. I would relate my latest co-sleeping adventure with Luke and Jenny would say, “What a great idea for an article! You could submit that to Mothering!” I never really took her seriously. But she persisted in making these kinds of comments for five years.

Last year after Jenny started a blog, upon her encouragement I started one too. Jenny persisted with her “when you begin publishing” comments, and I guess they have started to sink in. She has recently been dropping "when you publish your first book" casually into our conversations.

Jenny has been living in Kona for a few months now and recently someone asked her, “Can’t you live somewhere a little more realistic than paradise?”

I think paradise is the perfect dream for Jenny.

And writing a book, editing an online journal, and giving regular interviews are the perfect dreams for me.