From Eris Young The last year has been a funny one for me. I’ve never really been a very outgoing person, and it’s only since I’ve found what I think of as my ‘calling’ (writing) and begun to work towards that as a career, that I’ve had reason to push myself into unfamiliar situations: workshops, talks, live readings, socials. When I was younger, I realise now that I also used money as an excuse. It’s not that I was in the wrong to say, no, that concert or this exhibition or even just going out is too expensive, but that now I’ve got a stable income and can no longer use that excuse that I realise what I was doing. That I felt a tiny bit of relief if my friend didn’t offer to pay for me or suggest a cheaper alternative. But now that I’ve got to know and love the Scottish lit community better, it’s taught me to say ‘yes’ to things, to travel, to invest in classes and memberships, to speak publicly. And this development itself has created problems in turn; with so much going on, I’ve had to turn things down that I’d never even have considered trying a few years ago. This has made me realise how important it is to be realistic about what you can and can’t do, and not to beat yourself up about a scheduling conflict or a contest rejection, and not to let FOMO (feeling of missing out) get you down. It’s okay to wait a year and try again. My first summer in Edinburgh, for example, after I realised I wanted to work in books but before I really knew anyone in the city, I went to a couple events at the book festival, in between shifts at Blackwell’s, where I was temping. I made a desultory effort to participate, as if that would somehow magically increase my literary social capital instead of just making me feel like a spare part. It was a lonely time and I consoled myself that I’d try again next year, when I’d have more friends. Lo and behold, this august was one of the busiest of my entire life. I spent days at the book festival, chatting, writing, going to talks and generally schmoozing, and I paid for it by getting a horrible cold, then an intestinal infection, and THEN another cold and probably a torn muscle from coughing. #worthit With McGonagall night (anniversary of the death of beloved poet William Topaz McGonagall embed link: http://www.mcgonagall-online.org.uk/press/a-night-with-mcgonagall) this week, I’m reminded of the same week last year. I had just started at Blackwell’s and didn’t really know anyone, and I have a strong memory of hearing about McGonagall night from a coworker (and subsequently reading some of his poetry for the first time) and wishing I’d gone along. And without even asking, I’ve been invited along this year! A similar thing happened last year with with the annual AWP conference (https://www.awpwriter.org/) in the US: as a reader for a literary magazine I was offered a free pass to come along as a volunteer, with time on the side to attend talks and parties and generally build my professional network. Last year at this time I was still new at my job, my mom had just come to visit from the states and we’d used some of my vacation days, and I had an unpaid internship lined up later in the year that would use the rest of them. Even aside from the fact that at that point I had zero savings, there was simply no way I’d be able to attend. At the time, this felt like a Once In A Lifetime Opportunity™, and I was gutted not to be able to go. I questioned my own choices: I had a stable, permanent job but what if attending AWP conference was going to be a career-making move?? This seemed to be a yearly thing, but next spring seemed ages away. But registration time has rolled around again, I’ve got my volunteer pass, and I’m planning my first trip back to the states since I moved to Scotland. So again, waiting turned out to be the smart, healthy decision. I’ve got holiday days saved up and enough savings to pay for a hotel. I’m a better writer now with a bigger portfolio (and business cards!). I’m beginning to think that in some cases, putting things off is a form of self-care. In the moment it can seem like any missed opportunity was going to be THE opportunity: you imagine the best thing that could have come out of it and operate on the assumption that it would have. But just as FOMO is deceptive, this is your brain tricking you into thinking you’ve missed the job or conference or workshop of a lifetime, when the reality would no doubt be much more mundane. Nobody can do everything. I’ve known a lot of people who seem like they do everything, but these people will also usually admit that chasing after every single opportunity can take its toll. It’s draining at the best of times, and as I found out after book festival season, can have long-lasting physical consequences as well. If you teach yourself to tell the difference between a true golden opportunity and something that you’d be better off holding off on, your brain and body will thank you. Eris Young is...a queer writer and editor whose work focuses mainly on transgender issues, though they dream of writing the next great epic fantasy novel. Originally from Southern California, they moved to Edinburgh for the lit scene and, apparently, the damp.
Follow Eris: @Young_E_H
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