ROAR!!! Then wait. Repeat as necessary.

I’ve always loved March’s “in like a lion, out like a lamb” dichotomy. On the one side, there’s a fierce restlessness and on the other, a kind of peaceful hopefulness.

It’s not much of a stretch to say I’ve repeated this pattern in my life almost as if, being born in this month, I was given a script by which to operate.

I can be very Lion-ish about certain things. I once identified it as my leadership style. The entrepreneur in me, the would-be punk with mismatched clothes and wild hair, she’s a Lion. Nonconformist, freedom-loving, and willing to debate and argue politics. She’s been woke these last few years after #MeToo, #Resist, and #ShePersisted. She’s been willing to admit her privilege and tried to be empathetic to the journey others are on.

A lion is a pack animal, protective and focused on doing what needs to be done. We’re talking the Nala kind of lion, not Simba the slacker.

Photo Courtesy ScreenPrism.com

My lion side wants to force things, take the lead, share a vision that others embrace and respond to. She’s writing the entrepreneurism “textbook” (more of a digital course supplement than traditional textbook). She sees gaps in the marketplace.

My lion side gets discouraged and frustrated when she can’t rally people to the cause. Why don’t we have more listeners on our radio show? Why can’t we get people to participate in our local authors book club? Why is it so hard to build a tribe?

If you build it, they will come isn’t exactly a business strategy. My lion side knows this. She wants to work, to hustle, to build.

Then there’s the lamb. She sacrifices herself. She accepts a certain kind of dismissal, overlooking, and low expectations. She doesn’t bite back when people say, “If you can do it, so can I.” (Cuz really, fuck that. No, you can’t.)

She smiles with grace and dignity when she’s denied funding for an idea. When she loses a sale. When she’s ignored by decision makers, king makers, in this town. She defers: recommends and promotes others into roles she ought to be Lion-ish about. She gives.

And then she lays down and waits.

And this frustrates my lion side. I want to advocate but am I standing on an empty shore and spitting into the wind?

It’s my birthday month. A traditional month of introspection for me. The year I turned 40 I started a little journal of the “well-lived life” things I was going to do: read more female authors (check), spend more time with family (check), donate more clothing (umm), build Hollie’s scrapbook (umm), submit to more journals (yes, but with sad results).

It’s three years later and I’m no worse off now than I was then. I’ve published a book, earned a full-time faculty position, and established the only school for consultants in South Carolina. I’ve also gotten into some of the habits I wanted to establish like attending live events and blogging more regularly.

This month I’ll be taking stock again. The lamb in me wants to understand where I’ve been and how to course correct. The lion in me wants action.

The 42nd Year is Underway

"Easter is about hope."

That’s what the Australian-accented, boomerang-slinging bunny in Rise of the Guardians says about his holiday.

Easter is about possibility. Redemption. Renewal.

It’s rather fitting that the end of The 41^st Year is Easter week. It’s fitting because when I set out to do this last year, I was really looking for renewal.

On my 40^th birthday, sitting in a bar in New York City, I wrote, “This all started because Heather said, ‘Forty is a motherfucker,’ and, like most things in my life, I decided to manage my expectations.”

Forty couldn’t fuck with me if I knew what I was doing. If I had a plan. A purpose. A mission.

On the first page of the journal I bought in NYC to track The 41^st Year, I wrote, “I know I’ll struggle. I know I’ll focus on the shortfalls and the challenges. I know I’ll be glaringly aware of the misses, the failures, and the face plants.”

So here they are:

I did not visit Papa 40 times. I got to Florence 11 times in the last year. It’s an hour trip and a three-hour commitment. It takes about $20 in gas round trip. I’ve been too broke and too busy. And yet each of those 11 visits filled me with a sense that my Papa appreciates me. Loves me. Is proud of me. So, I’ll try to keep my once-a-month pace and hope that will suffice.

I did not donate 40 articles of clothing or put 40 pages into Hollie’s scrapbook. I didn’t do even one for either of those. I did accept some pieces from my dear friend, Teresa, who has lost weight and gave me the six pairs of pants and four tops that have made my working full time doable these last three months. As for the scrap book, someday I’m sure I’ll wish I had captured every minute with Hollie. For now, though, I’m waiting until she’s interested in helping with the project to really take it on.

I did not submit 40 times. I submitted 27 times but now I have a weekly habit, so that’s a good thing. I feel good about the submissions. I feel like I’m getting used to rejection and that’s part of being a writer.

I did not do 40 runs, in fact I haven’t run at all. Something I regret and something I plan to remedy. Immediately. Let’s roll that goal into next year.

I didn’t get to 40 new places but I did get to 15 including two new cities: Kansas City, Missouri and Toledo, Ohio. It’s hard to travel when you don’t have any money. Some “places” that mattered this year included the Office of Business Opportunity’s Small Business Conference last May at which I was a speaker and the Winter Wheat Literary Festival where I was on faculty. The SCWA’s writers conference in the fall to which I won a scholarship and the Girls Rock! showcase where I saw my daughter play guitar on stage for the first time. I’ll take quality over quantity on that one all day long. We even got to Five Points on St. Patty’s Day which was a big achievement for Hollie and me.

I also wrote in that journal that The 41^st Year was meant to provide wins. Easy ways to show progress and success.

“Say you will and then do it. No fear. No excuses. No boundaries.” Reasonable, achievable things on the list.

Categories where I killed it: Blog posts and books by female authors. I read 73 books last year and have read 28 this year so far. Nearly all of them are by women writers. My blog posts were mostly on the SCWA blog, but I also generated content for Clemson Road Consulting, Unapologetically X, and two clients. This blog, The 41^st Year, has been neglected. But that’s mostly as a reflection of my glaring awareness of misses, failures, and face plants.

So, it’s Easter and this is about hope. Renewal. It’s about opportunity.

There has been so much opportunity in the last few months, really since I started The 41^st Year and started being intentional about pretty much everything. Opportunities are not hiding under bushes waiting to be found like colored eggs. They’re flying past us like dandelion seeds on the wind. I’ve tried to gather them all. Chased them all. Watched them float by and wished they were mine.

Now I’m going to bloom where I’m planted.

This was an important year. A year in which I decided I am the grown-up in the room and it’s up to me to make decisions and take action. A year in which I stopped waiting for others to offer, comply, and play along.

I was so afraid that 40 would be a motherfucker. So, I geared up and took a few practice swings. When they landed, and the resistance gave way, I decided to kick its ass. And what it feels like right now is that I’m just getting started.

It feels like Game On. Bring it, 42^nd Year. Show me what you’ve got.

Another GenXer in Flux

I want to break my default settings. I want out of the day-to-day life of boredom, routine, and petty frustration (with a nod to David Foster Wallace, linked above).

I know most people don’t think their desires are unreasonable. Except, when I say mine aloud, the people around me scoff. Audibly.

Some of my favorite nay-sayings:

·         Just be glad you have a job.

·         You may have to take what you can get.

·         Well everyone wants that, but be realistic.

·         If the opportunity presents itself, sure, but it’s unlikely.

·         How will you make money that way?

·         I just don’t see how it would work.

The last one is Cuk, my ROI-model-requiring husband. Show me the plan, give me the proof, explain exactly how it will work and also, what the back-up plan is.

Stick to what you know

Most of these voices come from a traditional economy. The traditional economy looks like this: eight-to-five work day, five days a week, office, cubicle, meetings, Outlook calendars, phone extensions, regular paychecks with direct deposit and 401k contributions.

Stability, right? Not so in 2008. Not so in 2009.

I am grateful for having “survived.” I'm grateful for my employer having “survived,” under incredibly competent leadership, with only a small share of the overall casualties. I know my family was extremely lucky and continues to benefit from the benevolence of stable, profitable companies.

But it’s not 2009 anymore. And I'm moving to Clemson Road.