It’s Superbowl Sunday. And as I await the big game, I’m struck by how being an author is not unlike being a professional athlete.
You begin. Get your name out there. You may or may not be a novice; you may be even in your third or fourth year. And you wait. For the cheers, the reviews, the crowds. It’s unnerving at best, and as you have poured out your heart and soul, you cross your fingers, hold your breath and hope for the big win.
Being an author isn’t for the faint of heart. I mean let’s be real. You put yourself, your thoughts, your words out in public and wait for a response. Who does this stuff? Athletes, actors, artists, but it’s a relatively small portion of the population. It’s certainly not the safe option, but when it works, it is a very satisfying one.
At a school last week, I did a presentation for kiddos from K-4. While the younger ones contemplated their neighbors to the left and right of them, and why on earth they were in the gym when not dressed in gym clothes, the 2nd and 3rd graders completely got it. They understood that they were being exposed to something new, something interesting, something, perhaps a bit magical. And they were transposed. ‘Awesome’ I heard, as the kids left the room. Wow. Now that’s a get. That’s a catch. That’s a win.
I love it when that happens, and luckily it does quite often. I just can’t figure out the end zone dance—least not yet.