Swimming thru (it’s raining here in Chattanooga!) to tell you something I discovered: I’m living a double life.
Yep, a double life. I admit it. I’m a writer by nature and by trade, but I’m a laborer by necessity.
Here’s what I mean: My “first” life is the one where the need for creature comforts, like food, warmth, toilet paper and a roof over one’s head, forces you to get off your buns and work.
This life is a must. After all, that old saying is absolutely true: “He that don’t work don’t eat. He’ll be just like a bear with no shoes upon his feet.”
So because I’m terrified of being like a bear with no shoes upon my feet, I throw myself into the world of work. And quite naturally, by the time I return home, I’m almost too tired to create.
Almost. But like I said, I live a double life. I have many exciting writing projects that, quite frankly, are not going to promote themselves. If they’re ever going to end up on the book shelves, I’ll have to be the one who gets them there. I also need a new laptop, and since no amount of wide-eyed staring toward heaven has made one fall out of the ceiling, it’s a safe bet that I’ll need to work to earn the money to pay for it.
Such is my double life.
When I get home from work, I shed my daily “disguise” and don my mild-mannered, unassuming writer-extraordinaire costume. Then I sink myself into my “real” work:
I have an unpublished mg that has received some pretty great reviews, and a soon-to-be-published children’s picture book that is begging to be published. I’m also developing three new websites for writers, I’m penning a new picture book about love and acceptance, and I’m wading through five books in my TBR (“to be read”) review stack.
This double life can be overwhelming, that’s for sure. And it can mean the difference between posting here once or twice a week, or posting once or twice a month.
Ah, if I had only had the foresight to win the lottery, or to marry a millionaire, or to write a run-away best-seller that showered me with everything I need to alleviate the day-to-day worries, then I could shed my other disguise and be a writer all the time.
But…not. Doesn’t work that way. So I live a double life, just like the rest of society.
Ah well, welcome to the club.