(Quick! Search your pockets! Or Between the couch cushions at home! or The ashtray/change holder in your car! Or even the seat next to you on the bus, keeping in mind you may get slapped if someone is still sitting there! Why are we doing this? I mean, aside from the obvious aerobic benefits? Because it’s Friday and time for Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing! If this is your first time here, Ned’s NWOW is when I share the collective wisdom of 15 years of column writing experience. Join us now for a weekly feature that has been described as “literary pearls from a diver who needs more oxygen,” and “Worth every penny! As long as it doesn’t go over five cents…”)
It began with my parents of course, who held hands as I explained that I had always felt “different,” and that I wanted to embrace who I was, without shame, hopefully with their acceptance and approval. They both exchanged glances, my mother squeezing my father’s hand and offering him a worried smile before turning back to me. She knew what was coming and slowly blinked, nodding her head ever so slightly, encouraging me.
I cleared my throat. Took a deep breath.
“Mom… Dad… I think I might be a writer.”
It’s been many years since I came out of the closet. Or, in my case, the laundry room, which is where I did most of my writing until becoming a columnist in 1998. But before that — before I actually started getting paid to write — that conversation replayed itself many times over the years with family, friends and co-workers, most of whom thought of my writing as something akin to collecting salt and pepper shakers; a “unique” hobby that I was asked not to talk about at parties.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but for people who don’t know you — it makes them uncomfortable when your eyes light up like that.” Continue reading Coming out to the ones you love about your alternative (writing) lifestyle
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