Maybe it’s time I join the circus.
At this point, I’m damn good at juggling. Even as I type, I have about seven things floating above my head that I’m going to need to catch and toss again in a few seconds. I’ll use my feet if I must. It’s fine. I’ve done it before. I’ll be a clown in the circus, juggling my day job, my writing career, my family, my friends, my finances, my marketing, my diet, a facemask, and whatever else the universe decides to throw into the mix. Maybe it will just tell me to dance as I juggle. Move to the beat, swallow a sword, and tie your hands behind your back.
Everything is fine.
I’ve written before about how adulting can be a lot. But I think the burden gets a little heavier when the thing you want most is about two inches beyond the reach of your fingertips. And within the space of two inches is about 10,000 sets of eyes.
“So how long have you been writing?” The agent asked me as I relaxed a little in my seat. I had just pitched my speculative fiction novel, Aftershock, over a Zoom meeting, and he asked me to email him the entire manuscript.
Talk about thunderstruck.
We still had 4 minutes left, and my tongue couldn’t pluck a single coherent sentence from my brain. Perhaps he could tell I was internally sputtering like an engine starved for gas, so he took the lead, and we both accepted our fate would be four minutes of small talk.
“I’ve been writing my whole life,” I told him. “I have a blog, #adulting. Light-hearted humor and relatable stories.”
The agent lit up. “What’s the URL?” He asked.
I gave it to him and explained the premise.
“How many followers do you have?”
I stumbled. I spent hours last night reciting a pitch for Aftershock. I wasn’t anywhere close to pitching a #adulting project.
“Only a handful,” I admitted. Twenty-five, to be exact. Whoopie. (Also, love you guys.)
“I just spoke to an editor yesterday about wanting to do a project similar to this,” the agent enlightened.
I think my left lung sprang a leak. It blew around my ribcage like a flying balloon, and for once in my life, I did not have words.
“I love the idea. But for something like that to work, you’d need about 10,000 followers. Then we could talk.”
Oh, is that all? Dude, I don’t even have enough friends for each finger on my hand!
I can’t remember what I said next, but I must have said something, and I hope to sweet baby Jesus it wasn’t dumb.
“I’ve seen it done in a month,” he continued. “If you really go for it and you do it right, you can get 10,000 followers in a month.”
I am a fumbling fool trying to figure out what I am supposed to be doing with my life, and here I am, literally 9,975 people away from getting something I’ve wanted since the 4th grade.
Let me just place this red nose on my face and hop on a unicycle as I juggle.
And for my next trick? 10,000 followers will fly out my ass!
I’m about to start cranking some serious content, ya’ll. Because I want this more than anything in the world. Drop me a like and a follow. Share with your friends. Let’s turn this circus act into a dream and pull a book deal out of my hat.
Let’s do this.