“What do you do?” I hear them ask.
“I write,” I say.
“What do you mean, you write?”
Their puzzled looks say it all. Why go to so much time and effort producing something that may not make you any money?
But why not? I want to fire back.
Instead, I keep quiet. And ignore their looks. Because I don’t think they understand.
You see, I have made money from writing – not enough to support my family and me, but enough in dollar amount and frequency to remind me that:
I CAN DO IT.
But that’s not the point.
Even if I never sell another piece of writing for the rest of my life, I know I will have been doing what makes me feel complete.
The thing is, when I am writing, I am truly alive. I’m truly happy. I am fulfilling an innate need. The bills don’t matter. The housework doesn’t matter. The fact that my dog threw up on my new rug this morning doesn’t matter. When I’m writing, I remove myself from the mayhem and monotony of everyday life. I lose the label of being someone’s wife, mother, sister and friend. I am simply left with me.
I am free.
And I am having delicious fun.
Now, I may not become financially wealthy from what I produce as a writer (after all, how many do?) but I know that I am richer because I make time for what I love to do.
And if writing is something you love to do, please allow yourself the opportunity to give it a damn good go.
And happy writing!
Have you ever felt that some do not understand your passion to write? Would love to hear how you address it.