In life, most of us have no less than two opportunities to check in with our inner flames and decide what we’re going to do with that spark that sets us apart.
Our first real chance usually comes when we’re teenagers—when we’re high in passion and vision, but low in experience.
It’s the gift of the young to view pure concepts from a vacuum of inexperience. The path from what is to what could be seems so clear and obvious when you’re a teenager that it’s almost nonsensical that your path is not already a freeway everyone drives every day. It’s the gift of the beginner’s mind to look at a picture of Mount Everest and think, “That doesn’t look too hard to climb. If I got the right gear and some good friends, I could do it.”
Embracing the belief that you can climb Everest and live happily at the top is not a path for the fickle or those easily discouraged. Metaphorically speaking, there are easier and more scenic hikes, and plenty of people in your life will be happy to make intermittent (or persistent) suggestions to relocate your goals to more well-trodden trails in diverse, tempting, and established locations.
For those who choose to embrace their inner vision early in life, the next several years or decades will likely be spent challenging the expectations of those close to them in pursuit of an inner vision only they can see at first.
But if they do things right, someday everyone will see what they’ve seen all along.
On the flip side of this coin are teens with a similar flame who choose to step into the “shoulds” and traditions they were born into. It’s a pair of shoes that doesn’t fit them, and they know it. But for (what they think is) the sake of the tribe, they’ll give the shoes a try. The shoes pinch in some spots and flop in others. They’re almost always too hot, sometimes too cold, and rarely just right.
The tribe talks them through the aches and pains, usually well-intentioned and supportive, sometimes impatient. It seems like an easy solution would be to ditch the shoes and walk barefoot with the tribe, but to remove the shoes is to lose the tribe. Those are the rules. So they grit their teeth, hang in there, and try to figure out what everyone is raving about Should-ville.
Both paths—both the one up Everest in custom shoes and the flat path in pinching shoes—require a lot of energy focused in different ways. And both paths lead to a mid-life crisis where you ask yourself if the sacrifices you’ve made are worth it, or if you want to give another path a try. You’re exhausted at this point, and you have to ask yourself if it’s the kind of exhaustion you want to give your life to, or if another type of exhaustion sounds better.
For those who have been hiking some version of Everest since their teens, maybe they’re ready for some creature comforts and want to relax into the progress they’ve made while passing the baton on to the next generation.
Or maybe they’re just hitting their stride and still have their eyes on the peak.
For those who quieted their inner voice to step into the status quo, maybe the status quo has left them anemic to the point where life has no vision or purpose unless they admit to themselves that they’ve always wanted to hike, and valleys aren’t really their scene. Staying where they are is an endless, flat path into a slow death.
Or…maybe those hand-me-down shoes have molded to their feet perfectly and they wouldn’t trade them for thing.
These obviously aren’t the only paths available to people on this earth, but I do think they’re common ones.
I’m one of the people who tried the tribal shoes on for size and never could make them fit. And I’m tired of limping on flat ground in shoes made for someone who was definitely not me. I’m ready to go hiking in a pair of shoes that fit and to move like it doesn’t hurt…because, for once, it doesn’t.
So…why am I saying all this?
Because I want you to know why I’m introducing you to the person you can google in a year, and not the person you can google now.
No, I’m not schizophrenic. I’m a writer, which is kind of the same but different in that I can control the timing of my delusions without medication.
But in work, as in life, I am at a crossroads of writing what the tribe likes, or what comes to me when I set my eyes on Everest. I’m a pro at the status quo, but comfy, flat roads are not for me. I need to explore.
I’m right back to where I was as a teenager, only I’m older now. High energy has been replaced with real-world experience. I may not have the energy of youth, but I can work smarter and more strategically than teenage me.
And I’m ready to climb.
Again, why am I saying all this? Because when you make a shift like this in your professional vision, it is standard practice to change your name.
Books/authors really aren’t different from any other product. If what people get doesn’t match the reputation or the packaging, they’re going to be pissed.
It’s like if you have a reputation of selling bags of chocolate and one day you switch to carrots. If you sell the carrots in the same bags without telling anyone what you’ve done, you’ll create a very big problem for yourself. Yes, some of your customers might be interested in your bag of carrots, but to assume that everyone who thinks they’re buying chocolates will be equally delighted with your carrots is a miscalculation that will have people hunting you down where you live so they can yell at you in your own home.
With books, as with groceries, if you want to sell carrots AND chocolates, you need to create two, clearly marked, separate bags.
So that’s what I’m doing here. And that’s the reason for the big intro. I want you to know why I’m introducing myself as the person you can google in a year, and not the person you can google today, although both will lead you to the person typing all this out.
And with all that said:
Hi. My name is Pip Little. I wear shoes that fit, and I like to explore and climb. I write. A lot. I study the world. A lot. When I write out of my own head, the tone is often exploratory and philosophical. When I write fiction, I am much, much funnier. You can thank my muses for that.
Maybe you believe in muses, maybe you don’t. I don’t really have a choice, and to take credit for their intelligence and wit is a rookie mistake. No one likes to be dissed or be taken advantage of. Even invisible people…maybe especially invisible people.
Either way, I’ll let you judge my muses on their merits as I release new stuff. I hope you like it, but I understand if it’s not your thing. I’m a very specific flavor. I’d like to say I’m like chocolate, but I’m probably more like cilantro or ginger, where most people are hardwired to have a knee-jerk response one way or the other. I can accept that. All I hope for is that I’m allowed to exist, and people don’t start grabbing pitchforks and screaming, “Kill the cilantro!”
I know…that’s a lot to ask in this world, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
There’s certainly more to know about me, but I’ll let future posts speak for themselves. And I’ll let you judge for yourself whether you like my new shoes and all the random things I’m doing in them as I test them out every which way.
In the meantime, I look forward to getting to know you better.
Pip
P.S. I'll figure out how to do the image thing next time. I tried imgsafe and all that, but they were no more cooperative than trying to insert them here. Truth be told, new technology platforms and I rarely get off to a smooth start. I'll make an image happen next time, though.