Ever been asked to do a thing so far outside your normal day to day that you think, “Really? ME? Um. Okay, I guess, if you think I can?”
That’s my life for the last month, writing a grant for the institution that I just… huh.
So today I spent four hours writing. I wrote less than 5 pages. But they’re 5 tight, coherent, narratively smooth pages. They are on point. They speak to the ask. They’re pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.
They might not be right, but they’re good.
Tomorrow I write 5 more pages, and then this draft will be done and ready for dissemination to the powers that be.
If I write this thing, and the powers that be like it, I will feel like a goddamned rock star, because it will prove that I’m capable of going way outside my wheelhouse and doing what needs to be done.
If I write this thing and everyone hates it, I will feel okay about that, honestly — because it’s so far outside my wheelhouse I’m not even sure I’m holding a wheel.
But it’s stretching my wings, for sure. Trying to fly. Either I’m Dumbo with the feather — holding onto librarianship as “my domain” for comfort — or the feather really does mean something, and I’m not cut out for more than that.
*flap flap flap*