It’s A Job

Writing, that is. It’s not a hobby. It can be a hobby. But it’s not mine. I already have plenty of hobbies; dancing, hiking, gardening, sewing, music, shopping, reading. Even painting, despite having illustrated my own stories and books, I would relegate to a hobby, as I have never been paid to do so. Early on I exhibited and sold paintings, which told me I needed to pick between being a professional writer or artist. I picked writing.

So. It’s a job. And where do you have to start at any job? At the bottom. For those of us who have already had a successful career this can be hard. We’re used to “street cred.” A good salary. We may have forgotten what at the bottom means because it’s been so long.

Here’s what it means as a new author. You start out writing short stories for very little money. Sometimes a “sale” simply means being published for the recognition. You graduate to novels. More bucks but basically the same principle. Gradually you build your readership base and sell more. At some point you obtain an agent and hopefully you can progress quicker.

The beginner’s cash flow (or lack of) I was prepared for. The street cred is another story, by which I mean one becomes used to a certain amount of recognition as far as work value goes. You don’t have to justify what you do. People know you are doing something. They know you get paid for that something. They might not understand the nuts and bolts, but they nod sagely when you state your profession. You have a real job. You are not lazy. You contribute to society.

And then you start at the bottom again. And the questions begin. What are you doing today, someone will inquire. Writing, say I. Long pause. How’s that going?, they finally ask. Ok, say I, considering I’m really just starting out. Another long pause. I’m glad your, er, happy. It must be nice to sit around all day long.

This used to bother me a lot. I’d seethe and then justify. I AM working, I’m NOT sitting around all day eating bon bons, and I AM progressing with my writing career, thank you very much. Huff huff. I have to admit it does still irritate me a bit, but mostly now I can let this pass by. Some people will never understand why I would switch careers just when my earning power was at its peak. Or why I would do something so “flighty.”

But that’s OK. Writing is something that called to me. The muse sunk her teeth deep and wouldn’t let go. Many of my friends do understand. A few have even called me courageous. I don’t know about that. But I do know that responding to your soul’s longing isn’t always cupcakes and flowers. In a way, I think it’s Ms. Muse’s way of saying hey…are you sure you want to do this?

I’m sure.

Now I believe I will eat a giant bon bon. Or perhaps in honor of my Malaysian book I’m working on, I’ll have an ABC…a mixture of agar, (A) bean curd (B), coconut milk (C), ice, seeds, noodles, syrup, and sugar.

I think I’ll take the bon bon.