Know Your Worth
This summer, I finished my memoir on starting over again in my forties. It’s raw, brutal, and ultimately hopeful. It’s the piece that helped me land an agent and now it’s on submission with editors for publication. Or it will be soon. My agent gave me a call and we chatted about possibilities. At the end of the call, she said, “Tanya, one more thing. You’ve got to stop apologizing. You apologize more than anyone I’ve ever worked with.”
I laughed and said, “Well, from the little I know of publishing from audiobooks, I know how incredibly busy you are. I just want to honor that.”
“Sure,” she replied. “But this is my job. Know your worth. I’m working for you.”
The phrase “Know Your Worth” stuck with me and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
I’ve spent a good deal of my life apologizing. I think it’s my Midwesterness showing, yes, but it’s more than that. I want to be kind. I want to be gentle. I want to honor the work and effort others do. But I never really realized that in endlessly apologizing, it has an effect. It makes me smaller. It makes me less-than. It makes me seem like I’m not confident in my work, in my life, in who I am.
I am confident, actually. This memoir is the best thing I’ve ever written. Beyond being the best thing I’ve written, it’s special. It’s told mostly through dialogue and the conversations are real and brutal. I have a knack for remembering conversations and I was able to organize the scenes in a way that the reader experiences a journey of self along with me. I’m proud of this piece. I’m proud of what I’ve been able to create.
I don’t think I’m the only one who apologizes. I think women tend to do so more than men, especially in business.
I remember once my ex was sending a work email and it was so short and succinct. There were no exclamation points, he didn’t ask about how the person he was writing to was doing, he didn’t wish them a happy weekend. He just said what he needed in a single line and sent the email. I was stunned. “You sent that?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said.
It had never occurred to me that you could write an email that wasn’t cushioned on all sides. Wouldn’t the reader think he was a jerk? Wouldn’t he seem rude? Or would it just seem like a confident work email coming from someone who knew what he needed to do?
I was talking to a narrator friend of mine and she said that sometimes how we talk shows our childhood roots. It made me think of my own upbringing. How I needed to be quiet to avoid danger, how accomplishing things gave me affirmation (which feels like love) I didn’t get in my family. The idea that my tentativeness could be old patterns showing up, is mind blowing.
What would change in my life if instead of apologizing for taking up space, what if I expanded? What if I stopped cushioning and softening and simply stated what I wanted and needed?
I’m trying it out.
It’s curious, the effect it’s having on me.
By removing the apology of bothering people, I am starting to step into my worth. I have things to offer: creatively, professionally, and personally. I know this. This is true.
This memoir I’ve written is beautiful and it deserves an audience. It deserves to be read and shared and discussed. And as one of my beta readers said, it’s the specificity of the piece that makes it universal. It’s a really cool book.
My narration work is strong and there’s no shame in stating that. I’m not taking anything away from others by saying I’m good at my job. I am good at it. They can be good at it too.
I shouldn’t have to apologize for being who I am. It doesn’t soothe whoever I’m apologizing to; it just makes me shrink.
So. Okay. Another thing I’ve learned. Know my worth, and embrace it.
I’m grateful to my agent who believes in me and my work. I’m grateful she is out there telling publishers that my work is worth reading.
I owe it to myself to have that same confidence.
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TANYA EBY is a narrator and writer in Grand Rapids, Michigan.If you like her work, please share it and/or leave a comment. Follow Tanya on Twitter @Blunder_Woman.