Being a creative type--blessing, curse or both?

I have a question for all you creative types out there:  Do you ever wish you were just a normal person?

Every once in a while, I go through a period where I question every decision I've ever made in life, including the decision to pursue a creative path.  I feel like I'm constantly overwhelmed with stuff I have to do and want to do, and the majority of it stems from my calling to be a writer and comedian.

During our session a couple of weeks ago, my fantastic comedy coach, Michael "Wheels" Parise, had me make a list of ten goals for 2013. I came up with eleven. I probably won't achieve everything on my list--or maybe I will--but it's something to strive for. And it should keep me out of trouble.

Linda' Goals for 2013

1. Have my next book, "I'm a Mess, You're a Mess," ready for publication next spring or summer and hold some kind of release event
2. Pursue bookings in A-level comedy clubs
3. Get more speaking engagements for non-profit, women's groups, etc.
4. Do spouse programs for the spouses of folks attending conferences here in Las Vegas
5. Participate in library writing panels
6. Speak at or participate in a panel at the 2013 Vegas Valley Book Festival
7. Do more comedy fundraisers
8. Create an audio book for Bastard Husband: A Love Story
9. Formalize my mailing list, create a database, and send out regular correspondence to fans
10. Give workshops on self-empowerment
11. Speak at a writers' conference

Every single one of these comes with a list of steps that need to be taken in order to achieve that goal, and that's when I want to throw my hands in the air and just say, "Fuck it, I'm just gonna be a normal person who goes to work everyday, comes home and makes dinner, and then reads a little and watches TV and then goes to bed and does the same thing the next day." No more constantly pursuing, pursuing, pursuing...

I have friends who are writers, comedians, musicians, actors, artists, photographers, jewelry designers--all of us are doing whatever we can to get ourselves out there, to share our art with the world. Last night Mike and I attended my friend Wendy Roundtree's photography opening at the Henderson Multi-generational Center (running through 12/22). As I looked at her beautiful photos (and ate one free cookie after another), I thought of all the work it took Wendy to get to that point.  There's so much work behind the art.

Wendy on the right, Mike and I on the left

Wendy in the middle

So. much. work.  But I love when I get new reviews on Amazon and new "likes" for my Bastard Husband page on Facebook.  It makes my day when a reader takes the time to email me to say how much they enjoyed my book or blog.  I love it when friends come to see me perform--how cool that I'm able to provide a forum to get a bunch of people together for a fun night out--or strangers come up to me after a show and tell me they wish I were their friend in real life.  That's what makes it all worth it.

In the 2002 documentary Comedian, Jerry Seinfeld tells a great story about members of the Glenn Miller band, who, stranded in the middle of a cold, wet field, instruments in hand, are trudging on their way to a gig. They see bright lights and discover a happy family inside a cozy, warm home. Mom, Dad and the kids are sitting at the dinner table, laughing. One musician looks at another and says "How do they live like that?" 

That says it all.  We'd have it no other way.

Please, this holiday season remember to support your local artists!