I’ve been hectically busy just lately with lots of rotten things that haven’t involved reading or writing a word. Not so much fun, I didn’t like it, and now I’m resolved to boot anyone who tries to get me away from my computer until I’ve finished what I’m working on in the left kneecap. Hard. Very hard, and with malice aforethought.
Zooming through my piles of emails now, I spotted a post where someone said that her entire family see her writing as a hobby, a vanity, and a waste of time. Not cool – hackles up. When you’re a writer, those around you have to be properly taught that what you do is just as important, if not more so in some cases, as what anyone else does. Even if you’re only starting out in your scribbling career, and aren’t earning more than enough to buy your current weekly sustenance of a sack of turnips and bottle of industrial strength absinthe, it should never mean that whatever anyone else thinks or wants you to do should take precedence over your work. Unless others are totally dependent on you for their daily bread, so you have no choice but to take any job to make ends meet, why shouldn’t you be allowed the same time it would take in any other career to get from the carting coffee around point to the executive suite point?
Some non-writers believe that your fledgling career is a waste of time, and that you’d be better off getting a “real” job instead. To be honest, no one has ever been brave enough to suggest this to me, but that’s probably only because even though I’m almost always sweetness and light (heh), I can turn into a proper bum scorching dragon when riled. This suggestion would rile me. Writing is work. Just because you enjoy doing it doesn’t make it any less of a job than doing something you actively hate doing. So if your very first scribble doesn’t propel you to million selling author status, that’s it, time up? Get a real job now – you failed? I don’t understand people who equate a writing career with a life of munching doughnuts and watching TV all day. Or those who feel that it’s mandatory to grow up, get a crappy job that destroys your soul, get old and decrepit, and then move on to whatever awaits you on the other side. I feel really sorry for scribblers who have to put up with such lack of support from their nearest and dearest. Life’s difficult enough without trying to stop anyone from at least having a good go at doing something that they love. You have this life though, and I don’t see anything wrong with being as happy as a bunny if you’re not actually hurting anyone or anything else by helping yourself to said happy bunnyhood. Anyway.
A lot of spam has built up while I’ve been forced to do stuff in the world of flesh and blood, and right now I’ve decided that a fan is a fan after all, and that these particular fans could be wonderful outlets for scribblers to release all those pent up urges to get new readers to buy their books. So this time I’m going to reply to all the pervy direct messages before blocking them with, “Well hello there! I am flattered and overjoyed that you have such strong feelings for me that you felt obliged to ask to have a gander at little old me in the altogether!!! Thank you for your interest! Did you know that my books are only $2.99 each? Here’s the link to buy them!!!! Don’t forget to leave five star reviews, and LIKE my Facebook page.”