My name and graceful should never ever be put in the same sentence. In my head I’ve always wanted to be one of the sexy, stunning pin up girl types. One of those women who could lure a man from across a crowded room with just a lift of a perfectly arched eyebrow. You know the type, those women who could stop traffic just by walking out of building. I probably could stop traffic, but only by falling into the street.
I’m clumsy. Terribly clumsy. And shy. I lack that flirting gene that so many women seem to be born with. I’m blunt, at times overly honest. You know that filter people seem to have? Mine’s malfunctions daily. I talk way too fast. Sometimes I don’t think before I speak. I can never manage to say the right thing at the right time.
I’m AWKWARD, though I do try to hide it, my lack of cool comes out at the most inconvenient times.
I bought a brand new laptop not two weeks after opening it I dropped it then stepped on it.
I somehow got caught on a door at work and ripped my dress to shreds exposing my SPANX to the world.
I walked into a parked car.
I always come home with random bruises on my hips and legs and arms, because I bang into desks and doors and walls. I have a knack for breaking my shoes when there isn’t a spare pair or a shoe store around for miles. (I’ve done this three times in the last two years.)
I used to lament my lack of grace. Hell, I still do. But I had a conversation the other day with somebody. I was talking about another writer that I know who is always kind and helpful and never has a bad thing to say about anybody. I mentioned that I wanted to be more like her. But that person told me that I shouldn’t want that. That I’m snarky and snappy and have a wicked sense of humor and that those things made me me and that shaped the kind of writing that I do. My awkwardness is how I got my voice.
You know what voice is, right? That thing agents and editors always say they are looking for when they are looking for the next big thing. Voice is that style, that attitude that tells the world who you are through your words.
So what’s my message in all of this? Embrace your awkwardness. It’s okay to snort when you laugh or trip over your feet. It’s okay to be goofy. Your individual-ness can help to make your dreams come true.
So share with me. I want to hear about some of your awkward moments. Any and all comments are welcome.
Writing Secrets of 7 Scribes 
You may see yourself as awkward or shy, or someone lacking grace, Sugar, but that isn’t at all how I see you. I may not know you very well, but sister, I’ve seen you dance and I WISH i could dance with such booty shaking abandon. You’ve got the moves, my friend and you are beautiful! Your smile lights up a room and your laugh is contagious, so your friend is right. Be who you are, and if something about you isn’t reflecting the best you that you can be, you can change it. But do it because it will make you happier, not because you think it will make anyone else like you more.
As for awkward moments, we all do knuckle-headed things that make us feel like the clumsiest earthling on the planet…pizza sauce down the front of that white shirt, anyone?
It was all for the camera! And thanks for the compliments. I really am a big klutz.
Sugar – as a fellow clutz – I say embrace the “awkward”. Having a bit of Lucille Ball inside is a great thing. I tend to bang into things all the time too so I feel your pain. And I often say the wrong thing with the precision timing of a clown. The most recent awkward thing I’ve done – talking while eating a salad and chipping my front tooth on the fork! The dentist thought it was pretty funny. Me, not so much!
Ouch!
Sugar, I find you terribly hot! If I were allowed to have a pin up in my office (it’s against GE policy) but let’s say its there. You’re it, baby!!
Shucks! My head is gonna swell.
Sugar, seems you won, with that winning smile, you can own the world. Fun post, thanks.
Thanks for stopping by, Gail!
Sugar, by embracing your awkwardness and owning it, you empower yourself. Bravo, I say! You go girl!
Thanks!
I am a habitual fall-er. I’d fallen out of trees as a child while engrossed in reading poetry to the birds, down stairless dungeon-like basements, on ice (not while skating since I don’t skate), off a scooter, in ball gowns, most recently down my stairs! But wow! What awesome material for a YA, or a not-so YA! I know all about pain and bruises, but also about the body’s ability to heal.
I have a theory that we are all given the same amount of goodies at birth: some are born into riches and become bitches, others’ cradle was rocked in poverty and became inspiring role models, some have figures, others a beautiful voice, a winning smile, whatever! Use what you’ve got, and you’ll do just fine. You’re living proof, Sugar! 🙂