Sometimes I wonder: Why the heck did I have to want to be a writer?
Why couldn’t I want something simple? Or something complicated but attainable? Why couldn’t I dream of being a teacher? Or a nurse? Or a career waitress? Or a McDonald’s employee? Something attainable through a set education? Something that has a normal-to-high chance of employment in the field upon graduation?
Why did it have to be writing and authorship?
But when I think about it… I guess I dream of being Me. I am a writer. I am a story-teller (in the modern sense of the word…not a liar). 😉 That’s just the way it is. Would I change it? No. But, sometimes, being human, I wish I was normal. But, oftentimes, being human, I’m elated that I’m not.
So what am I going to do? Am I going to sit on my Writer’s Bum and do nothing? Or am I going to sit on it and do a lot of something (writing). And so I push steadily onward. I am a writer. I am an author. And, one day, I will be a published author – even if it’s self-published and 99% of the world hates it. (It could never be 100% hated…I love myself too much for that. – Kidding!) 😀
Oh but wait, I am published – an internet-published author. Sweet! 8)