i wanna be a writer.i always have.
when my father asked me what i wanted to be when i grew up, i told him a writer. he was impressed enough. after all he was a working artist for twenty years himself. not that he endorsed an artist's lifestyle... especially not for his impressionable ten year old daughter. then i asked him, "so how much money do they make? a lot, right?" he told me no, not unless i was steven king, and he wasn't that great of a writer anyways. so when we all wrote our career papers in ninth grade, i wrote about pychiatry because i heard they make a lot of money. by the end of that assignment, i definitely did not want to be a psychiatrist or any other kind of -ist. too depressing. too much school. and when would i ever have time to write the great american novel if i was working 60 hour weeks at the office?
in college i wanted to go into policy. but that turned out to be far too idealistic... besides, who wants to deal with all those corrupt politicians on a daily basis. frankly, it depresses me. so i switched to cultural studies. now there's a niche for the creative but constructive mind! plenty of writing too. yet it sure doesn't land you a job after graduation.
so here i am, now a married twenty-something with a new baby and no money. where do i turn? my lifelong dream of becoming a writer. i just figure there's no better time than... well, when i finally grow a pair. but who's going to hire a new mother with no credentials who wants to work from home? someone out there might go out on a limb for me, you never know. but i'll have to convince them first. i'll start with this post.