A writer? So what do you really want to do?

Why do people always ask  this question when a person says they want to be a writer, or an artist of any form.  You never hear people ask med students or law students so what do you really want to be?  Why is it so hard for some people to believe that there are people out there who not only write but actually want to carve out a living doing it.  Last year my pessimistic, narcissistic mother came to visit and half way through my seven days in hell she so graciously asked if I was still doing “that little writing thing”  (I can always count on my mother and grandmother for a confidence boost).  When I gritted through my teeth yes, trying to remain somewhat civil and not lose what little bit of religion and faith in the universe I have left.  She then proceeded to in her own mommy dearest way point out that no one who isn’t famous is making a living as a writer.  I was offended by her mommy dearest comment on several levels; first there are plenty of “non-famous” people who make a living as writers.  Second, just because someone is famous it doesn’t make them a writer reality stars have driven that point home with a vengeance.  After thirty-six years of being her daughter I knew we were not going to be able to have a civil conversation or debate about her baseless comment and I did the only thing that would make sense so I cut the television off in the room.  When she asked why I said in my sarcastic way.   “It seems pointless to keep it on since only famous people make a living being writers.”  She didn’t get it but in truth I didn’t expect her to understand.  And in some respects I don’t understand why writers are held to a higher level than other professions.  I don’t understand why it’s okay to be a successful unknown doctor but not a successful unknown writer.     

Twelve days in my World

On the first day in my world the universe gave to me

One Yukon XL with 100,000 miles

On the second day in my world the universe gave to me two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon XL with 100,000 miles

On the third day in my world the universe gave me to three crazy 100lb dogs, two non- working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon XL with 100,000 miles.

On the fourth day in my world the universe gave to me four dying hedges due to the drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband, and a Yukon XL with 100,000.

On the fifth day in my world the universe gave to me five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles.

On the sixth day in my world the universe gave to me six baby t’s that I’ll never fit in again, five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles.

On the seventh day of my world the universe gave to me seven mistakenly downloaded apps, six baby t’s that I’ll never fit in again, five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles

On the eight day in my world the universe gave to me eight mystery foods wrapped in foil in my frig, seven mistakenly downloaded apps, six baby t’s that I’ll never fit in again, five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles.

On the ninth day in my world the universe gave to me nine different telemarkers on my cell phone, eight mystery foods wrapped in foil in my frig, seven mistakenly downloaded apps, six baby t’s that I’ll never fit in again, five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles.

On the tenth day in my world the universe gave to me ten pairs of white socks washed with a red shirt, nine different telemarkers on my cell phone, eight mystery foods wrapped in foil in my frig, seven mistakenly downloaded apps, six baby t’s that I’ll never fit in again, five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles.

On the eleventh day of my world the universe gave to me eleven boxes of why is my husband keeping this, ten pairs of white socks washed with a red shirt, nine different telemarkers on my cell phone, eight mystery foods wrapped in foil in my frig, seven mistakenly downloaded apps, six baby t’s that I’ll never fit in again, five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles.

On the twelfth day of my world the universe gave to me a twelve-ounce vodka cranberry to wash down the eleven boxes of why is my husband keeping this, ten pairs of white socks washed with a red shirt, nine different telemarkers on my cell phone, eight mystery foods wrapped in foil in my frig, seven mistakenly downloaded apps, six baby t’s that I’ll never fit in again, five smart active kids who are bleeding me dry with extracurricular activities and sports fees, four dying hedges due to drought, three crazy 100lb dogs, two non-working hearing aids for my husband and a Yukon Xl with 100,000 miles.