OK, so obviously this blog is relatively new and if you’re here, you’re probably wondering about me. So here’s a beginning. The dream.
A lot of people talk about it– becoming a successful writer and quitting their day jobs. Getting away from the cubicle, the office building, the boss. Liberation. Working on their own terms. Being in control of their own destiny (Luke). Becoming a writer is a convenient route of escape.
Then there’s the ones who imagine themselves the next big superstar. The next Steven King, Suzanne Collins or Veronica Roth. Writing is their ticket to Beverly Hills. Fortune. Fame. Drinking brandy and smoking cigars. That sort of thing.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ll take the brandy and cigars if you’ve got ’em (bubblegum, preferably), but my version of ‘the dream’ is a bit different. My day job? I actually really love my day job. As far as day jobs go, I’m exceedingly lucky. I have lots of fun, I like the people I work with, and I actually could picture myself doing it until I am old and grey. There’s just one thing. It’s not writing.
Here’s my version of the dream: Me. My laptop. Lots of coffee. Papers scattered around me. My fingers are clicking away on the keys. I’m in the zone.
So, in some ways, I’m already living the dream. But I want more of it. Lots more. I’m a writing junky.
Someone recently said to me (disbelievingly), “So, if you won the lottery today, you’d spend your time writing?”
Them: “Not like… traveling the world and trying new things….”
Me: “I could travel the world, try new things, and write about them. There would be plenty of time if I won the lottery.”
Them: (more wordless disbelief)
So yeah, I am infuriatingly in love with writing. Writing, itself, is the dream. If you can understand that, then hey, we might just get along. 🙂