A Toe Outside The Comfort Zone

I've mentioned before that I don't really tell a lot of people in my life that I write.  There are multiple reasons for that, the biggest of which is that my people then ask me when I'm going to get published and I hate feeling that pressure.  

A few years ago, my mom "outed" me to my cousin.  This is something she's done on a couple of occasions because she's proud of me and thinks that I have talent.  So mostly I forgive her when she does it but still, I wish she wouldn't.  Anyway, my cousin was totally supportive, and said she would read anything I wanted her to, but of course, she asked, "when are you going to send it to a publisher?" 

Can I tell you I hate that question?

Sunday, we spent the afternoon at my uncle's because my previously mentioned cousin and her family were up visiting from North Carolina.  We spent most of the afternoon just shooting the shit and playing cards and laughing.  Her son, 8, earned the nickname "living twitter account" because he has a tendency to announce everything he's doing.  As well as tell us all his cards while we were playing.  It was a good time and it was great to see them all.  

Then Cousin, out of the blue, asks me if I still write.  For a moment, I just sat in stunned silence because I didn't know how she knew, before I remembered the conversation at our dining room table 3 or 4 years ago.  Brub took my silence to mean I didn't want to talk about it, and he jumped in to inform her that yes, I do still write.  He's proud of me, too.  She asked if I finished what I had been working on at the time, I tentatively said that a draft had been completed, as well as three sequels.  She, of course, wanted to know if I had sent it anywhere, to which I promptly answered no.  I think next she said that I should put it out there, get it published, and blah blah blah but I wasn't really listening.  Because I took a deep breath and decided to tell her that I had sent a short story to a publisher.  That's all I said.  She said that was great and I quickly jumped in that I didn't know anything yet and wouldn't for a while yet as it was for an anthology and the deadline hasn't approached yet.  Now, she's pretty open minded but I still didn't want to tell her what the story was about.  But I was prepared, if she asked, to tell her exactly what it was about.  I'm not ashamed to read or write gay romance and I was going to tell her that.  But she never asked, the moment ticked by, and then it felt weird to blurt it out after the fact.  So, I didn't say.  (I'm still trying to decide if that was cowardly or not)

But, she's the first person in my everyday life I've told besides my immediate family and my very closest friends.  It wasn't everything, the whole truth, but it was some of it.  And it made me very nervous to talk about it and I was relieved when we moved on.  But I did it.  And if she does ask about it in the future, I won't hesitate to tell her.  I think.  I'm going to try to take that whole step outside the comfort zone instead of just sticking my toe out.