Writing about writing - the guts of me

I've worked for a publishing company for almost 15 years now. I have loved selling and producing great advertising campaigns for a WIDE variety of clients. I have lived, loved and grown up swimming in words and images.

There has also never been a single word of editorial content, not an errant byline stating Created By Marielle Howard, printed in any of our publications.

Louisiana Business Inc, which was just Business Report and its annual supplements when I started this journey, has a strict, concrete thick strict, division between its advertising and editorial teams. This has given me both pain and relief over the years. Regardless of how I felt about our line in the sand, it was there.

I guess if I hadn't loved selling and creating advertising so much, the line might have posed a moral dilemma well before now. A few years ago, I began missing exercising the art of writing and reporting. But the line was still there.

My love of writing began in high school. A brave and brash English teacher taught a poor tomboy girl how to use poetry and prose to express herself. From tentative journal pages, to collections of short poems, to full fledged contest entries and even my first foray into publishing of mine and my classmates poetry in a magazine, Margaret Goode instilled in me a passion for the written word.

Mrs. Goode so profoundly influenced my life that to this day, I want to grow up to be a high school gifted English teacher. She changed my definition of myself, gave me permission to write my own story and the courage to laugh at myself along the journey.

And what a journey it's been. I continued to write after high school. From published analyses in my political science classes, to stories in LSU's student newspaper, I managed to feed my love of writing and share that love with a wider audience. My second degree in public relations was as much about my love of writing as my awareness that I would need a real job after college and I didn't know any political scientists.

After college, my writing became about profit. My career took a turn into the marketing world and I wrote, a lot. It wasn't the great investigative or insightful analysis pieces of my college days, but it was pen to paper with a paycheck. Oddly, this stab at writing was equally enjoyable.

From there, I ended up in sales and advertising. More specifically, I was in the business of selling advertising. Probing questions, concise proposals and fast ad headlines filled my time. All the while, life was happening and I drifted further from my love of creative writing.

A husband, kids, a career, cancer, life, death, marriage, sales, goals, life. My creative energy found lots of outlets. Photography, scrapbooking, home decorating, arts and crafts, teacher gifts, coworker gifts, baby gifts. I was telling stories, just in other ways.

One afternoon while at a professional conference in rural Tennessee, I learned about Eastern Tennessee State University. This magical place actually has a master's program in - wait for it - STORY TELLING! I told everyone I knew for months after this encounter that I was moving to rural Tennessee and going back to college. I felt my calling.

Then I discovered blogging. What a perfect way to burn my creative fuel! Pictures + words + readers, I thought this was going to be my lifelong outlet for all of the stories I've collected.

As I began experimenting with blogging, my work life changed. I'd never considered it, but the art of selling was being redefined in the most amazing way. Self appointed experts were now raking in the bucks teaching sales teams around the country that sales wasn't about probing questions, concise proposals and fast ad headlines, instead sales and advertising were now all about STORY TELLING!

If you ever doubt if there is a God, then the long thread of this story should at least convince you there is some greater and infinitely humorous power bringing us all full circle. I have no doubt there is a God and he had just revealed the guts of me - shown me my core purpose and passion in life - I am a Story Teller of the first order.

So now I am exposed to the core. I know what my Purpose is, with a capital P. Now what?
Lots of little projects, a story here, a press release there, a stint writing newsletter articles later and I was longing for a byline again. Part of me really wanted to see one of my stories, presented with authority, for consumers to chew on, be dragged into and sent away from different.

This summer, completely by accident, that powerful moment came.
"Would you consider reviewing the dinner you attended this weekend?"
"Would I!?!?"
"We'll have to get permission"
Patiently waiting while banging out the lead and first 5 paragraphs anticipating getting the chance.
"OK, this once, you can do this if you still want to."
"SIGN ME UP! WHEN IS IT DUE?"
"It's here!"

I have always been a story teller. At my core, it is what I am and what I love doing. I didn't need a byline to know that.

This byline gives me something completely other than validation of my life's true calling.
It gives me the joy of work.
It gives me the giddy excitement of opening an issue of one of our magazines like it's the BIG present under the Christmas tree.
It gives me immense gratitude for the people and challenges that have given me a voice.
It gives me pride that I work for an organization that gives stories life and import.

Coaching

My ten year old son has played some sort of organized sport since he was four. Soccer, baseball, basketball, football...we've played seasons of them all. And we have been blessed with great coaches throughout the seasons of his life.

Some of Hunter's coaches were nurturing, there's not much more you can do with four-year-old soccer toddlers. Some were disciplined. All were strong Christian men. And then there is Hunter's dad, my better half. David Howard, who never imagined anyone would let him coach his own kid, much less theirs, turned out to be one of the best coaches our son has ever had, both on and off the field.

Of all the sports he's played, soccer has remained Hunter's favorite. That may have something to do with him having always been on winning soccer teams with amazing coaches. Or it could just be he likes running up and down the field.

Whatever the reason, as soon as they opened sign ups for him to play for the first time with his school soccer program, Hunter was the first one committed.

From the beginning, we knew we would learn a whole lot more from this soccer season than we did from any of our previous seasons. As his mom, I figured out real quick that this soccer season would be a lesson in patience. And for Hunter and his teammates, it looks like this season will be a stark lesson in self leadership.

You see, Hunter isn't the only child I know that has benefited from great coaching in their early sports careers. Most of his friends have learned and played under great coaches, and a lot of the time, as teammates as well. In fact, of the 15 -20 boys on this soccer team, 10 -12 of them have played on the same team for the same coach in more than one season.

I mentioned my need for patience this soccer season because it is a lack of coaching staff that has made the blessing of our previous coaches all the more poignant. The coach we have is great, he's just having to coach three teams and three different games, sometimes two at the same time, while the school works to get other coaches ready to go. This poor fella doesn't stand a chance. He is heroic, but it appears doomed, if he doesn't get some help.

So, to bring the lessons learned full circle, Hunter and his friends need all of the self leadership skills they've not yet developed to get through this season. In fact, here's what they'll have to learn for themselves that their previous coaches have done for them.

• Putting a bunch of superstars together doesn't make a team.

Our fastest kid is FAST. But if he's way out in front and passes the ball, no one is there to get it. He has to slow down a little to make sure he's covered. And each boy will have to be honest with himself and his team about where his talents are best applied to get the best team result.

• Having great skills and knowing when to use them are two very different disciplines.

All of the fancy footwork they've learned looks great. But if their teammates can't keep up with them, it's just showing off. They've got to get the best kids with the right skills in the right place at the right time to be successful. Any other grandstanding means failure.

• COMMUNICATION isn't the most important thing. It's the ONLY thing.

Without a coach barking direction at them, the boys have to talk to each other or they're doomed. They have to let each other know where they're going, why, and what they plan to do when they get there. The Goal isn't the only goal of being a team. Getting to the goal together is critical.

• Win or lose, when you're the one on the field, you have to take responsibility for that outcome.

After losing their first game, and remember, they aren't very used to losing, the boys all whined. The field is too big. We didn't have a coach most of the game. We weren't ready.

That's life. They are likely never going to be completely ready for their opponents in life. But if they take responsibility for the parts that they can fix - train harder, run faster, communicate more and better - then they're 50% closer to winning than they were before they did nothing waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

Our second game ended in a tie. That's better than a loss. The boys all seemed to be getting the above lessons, that they'd have to do more for themselves to be successful in this season of their lives than ever before.

As a mom, seeing my son learning these important life lessons in vivid clarity, I can honestly say I'll be thankful for our overloaded coach. I will be patient and kind to him because he's teaching my son as much, if not more than, all of the other coaches he's ever had. I imagine quite unintentionally, this coach is teaching my son what it means to be a young man, responsible for his own success or failure, in what is thankfully, one of the safest places he could learn these lessons.