Yes, again! What of it? I promise this will be the last whingeing-about-writing post. Truly.1
I think I’m still in shock that my job is not always a doddle. You see, I fully expected that it would be.
Let me explain:
A full-time novelist is all I’ve ever wanted to be. Obviously the main reason I wanted to do it is because I’ve always loved telling and writing stories and I’ve done it since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. But I also kind of figured that it would be easier than any other job. Writing stories was fun. Something I did when I wanted to take a break from the onerous crap that I had to do. Surely doing it most of the time would be even more fun?
I imagined my life as a full-time novelist would involve never having to get up before noon, writing only when I felt like it, never being stressed, six-figure advances for every book, mangosteens for every meal, and walking on rose petals while fairy dust fell from the sky.
None of this has happened! NONE of it.2
I’ll admit that my job is not as hard as some people’s. I’m not down a coal mine. I’m not in a war zone. I don’t run the risk of death or injury very often—though paper cuts can be nasty.3 Many people work way harder than I do. Like my sister, who does 3,000 hour a week in dark rooms, making everyone in Hollywood’s hair look real, and the monsters look super scary.4
What was I saying?
Oh, yes, I thought writing would be the easiest job on the planet and I’d never have to work hard. So every time I do have to work hard it’s a horrible shock. Thus my whingeing.
Though it probably is the easiest job on the planet, which leads me to the depressing thought that no job is without hard bits. How unfair is that?
- Though I am writing a novel about a compulsive liar so I could be practicing. Plus all I’m doing right now is writing. What the hell else do I have to blog about? [↩]
- Though I do occasionally get to eat mangosteens. [↩]
- Not to mention RSI and back pain. [↩]
- Or something. I’m never entirely clear on what exactly Niki does. [↩]