There are all kinds of funny little things that happen day by day that I could write about, but I don’t necessarily want to write about them, or should write about them. I started this blog to be a place to update people about my writing, and my life in general, but mostly for my writing. Yet, it seems hard to share what I am actually writing, and when I do, no one seems to really care that much about it. Perhaps one has to be famous (or at least published) before anyone wants to hear about one’s writing life.
But for me, the writing process is so much more important than what happens after the project is done. I mean, once something is published, it is out there for the world, and sure, people can comment on it and be affected by it (which is kind of the goal), but at the same time, it isn’t occupying the internal space of the writer anymore. It’s out there in the real world. Right now, my book is all inside of me, and although I am slowly but steadily organizing it into words, I’m not quite sure how to share that process with people.
I try to explain that when people ask what I’m doing, but it never comes out right.
“So, are you working here?”
“Well, I’m looking for a job.
“You should go to the career center. With all your talents, you could definitely get a good job.
“Thanks, but I don’t really want a career. I’m writing for my career. I just want a job.”
How do you explain to people that you want a job, but not a career? I have a career. It is sitting at my desk and stewing over the imaginary lives of people in an imaginary future world, so that one day, I can have their entire story put into a book that everyone can read. Duh. I just want something to pay bills while I am working on this career.
And that is when I feel more than a little mentally unstable. Kind of like the characters in the book that I’m writing.
It’s not that I want to be irresponsible and poor. I just don’t want to be so occupied with my job that I can’t fulfill the goals of my career.