One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn in my life has been to ask for help. Growing up as feminism was taking hold, I took pride in being independent and self-sufficient. If I could figure out a way to do something, no matter how daunting the task or how much longer it took, I did it on my own. While that determination has its merits, not recognizing or asking for what you need also has its drawbacks, especially when it comes to writing.
Years ago, I remember asking my father, an award-winning journalist and bestselling writer, to read my final draft of To Have Or To Harm—the first book ever published about the stalking of ordinary people and the first one I had ever written, which I would republish years later as Surviving a Stalker. Of course, by the time I reached out, I had polished my pages to gleaming status, or so I thought, and expected nothing but paternal praise and pride.
“We need to talk,” he said instead.
As much as I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, he was right on every front. Had I run my manuscript by him earlier in the process, I would have spared myself a lot of rewriting.
Asking for what you need doesn’t come easy to most of us. Over the years, my writing coach clients have taught me how valuable getting out of your own way can be on that front. So have my dogs–past and present.
When my oversized English cocker, Hoover, wanted a snuggle, he climbed aboard regardless of the situation. While that got a little sketchy when driving, he would happily settle like a giant beanie baby on the lap of whoever occupied the passenger seat.
I nicknamed Hoover’s half-brother, Dashiell, the Baby Alpha, because of the confident, dominant nature he exhibited until he got scared. When the ball would roll behind an oh-so-frightening planter, Dashiell always made it clear that he needed help, and Hoover plodded over and obliged every time.
Ziggy, my border collie-Australian shepherd mix, arrived broken. A rescue who turned out to be a fear-biter due to who knows what kind of abuse, he wound up being the world’s sweetest pup. He just needed to feel safe, which he made abundantly clear for the first couple of years.
After an initial year of neglect, Sophie, the golden retriever-Australian shepherd I adopted from my neighbors, just wanted to be loved. She still demands affection from anyone in the house or anyone she meets at the dog park.
Finally, Misha, my Aussie, shepherd and husky three-year-old, vocalizes his need for affection or play with bark that leaves no room for doubt.
Like my pups, we all require different kinds of attention. The key, especially when it comes to writing, is figuring out what would help and then finding that support.
May asking for what you need make this coming year a happy and productive one on all fronts!
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