When it first occurred to me it was in English class in 10th grade. We read the mythic Catcher in the Rye and the teacher told us that J.D. Salinger was a recluse, and that nobody had seen him in some years, but that he was still very much alive (in 1996-1997).
Dead now a year, Salinger’s life may be pried apart and infiltrated by nosy fans and journalists. But I remember thinking, “How very cool. Everybody knows who this guy is, but nobody has seen him in years. I bet he shops for groceries just like everybody else.”
That was when it first occurred to me that I don’t want to be famous, I want to be notable. I want people to know who I am, but I want to be able to hang out in my town without getting mobbed by press. I want to be able to breathe easily and not inspect my mail for bombs or iocaine powder.
I, well April Line Writing and I, was featured in The Williamsport Sun-Gazette to which I regularly contribute. It is really a lovely write-up, and has earned all I hoped it would in terms of traffic to my website and interest in my workshops. I am making my own notoriety.
I had lunch today with a couple of friends and one of them discussed the looming certainty of 30 and how she feels like she has not accomplished enough. Of course, I told her she was barmy and that she’s accomplished a great deal, and that she shouldn’t let her parents impose their standards on her because our parents spent fewer years in school, and they believed that their sex organs would expire sooner than we Generation X-Yers do. 30 is the new 20, and I stand by that.
I feel great about where I am at 30. Sure, I wish I had a few more publishing credits, but I’m working on it. Slowly and surely. And I am apparently a little bit too vocal about my wistfulness. The piece linked above says that I “regularly contribute” to Bust and Ms. That is simply not true. I have submitted work to both publications, but they have not taken it. Yet.
Of course, I blame my own rambling answers to the questions I was asked more than the intellectual prowess of the journalist (who is lovely, by the way), and I harbor no ill will toward her or the Sun-Gazette or anybody else. But it would reflect poorly on me as a businesswoman, as a writer, and as a person to let all of you dear folks believe what is not true, even if it would be neat and is totally flattering.
So I have not placed anything in Bust or Ms. or Working Mother, but when I do, you’ll be some of the first to know.