Monday, January 10, 2011
So, I have not written in a while. In fact, for the past, what, 3 years now, it has been downright sporadic. But still I press on. Why, you might ask? Why do you still press on, even though you know no one is reading this, and having a blog is no longer a free pass to the cool kids table? Well, folks, I don’t really see is as a choice. I am a Writer. That’s right, with a capital W. Some people are born to be doctors or lawyers or candlestick makers, and their paths are laid out in front of them as clear as crystal. Mine was to. But here is the difference between theirs and mine; doctors and lawyers have paths that are socially acceptable and profitable. Those of us who have to write or go insane (or both simultaneously), there is not a whole lot of profit to be had. And it is not all that socially acceptable, either. Think about it. When you ask someone what they do, what pops in your head when they say, “O, I am a writer.” Same thing you think when you realize the person you are talking to is an underemployed 29 year old who still lives with her parents.