As you all know, I call myself a writer. Yes, I am a starving artist ... well, not technically. I am not really starving. Well, I might be a little hungry right now but that's because I am too lazy to go to the kitchen. I have a pretty good day job that I absolutely love and a hubby who would die before I starve, so I'm good. However, if I were to try to live off of my writing, I would be wasting away in my card board box that I call home, panhandling for my next meal. Yet, I am still a writer and here is why ...
It is 2:05 a.m. and instead of sleeping, I crawled out of my bed, turned on my computer and started typing. What is wrong with me? Oh, it gets worse. During the day all I can think about is carving out some time to work on my novel.
It is a good thing that people can't peer into my head because they would get really ticked off at me. Everything that happens to me and by extension to the people that are around me is a potential story. It does not matter how big or how small. I dial the wrong number, next thing you know, I am involved in a crazy set up that ends up with me behind bars or at least a character in my head. I drop a pen somewhere and I have just left behind evidence that can link me to a crime I didn't even commit.
Honestly, any situation that happens in or around my life is potential fodder for my pen and paper. As cliche as it may sound, most writers really write because they have no choice and they will do it whether they get paid or not.
I will keep it real, eventually, a sister-girl would like to get paid :).