I was a writer-mother who made a decent living at it (retired as a writer employee now but I still write! + my kids are grown but I’m still their mom!), so screw those wannabes who took the “Safe” route.
There’s nothing safe or practical about living an inauthentic life because society said so.
I know many effed up humans who really needed to use their gift of life to make things and express themselves but they sold that part of their soul to the capitalist, patriarchal devil.
Wompwomp now they’re in therapy lamenting the lack of meaning in their lives.
These are the same people who tend to undervalue the arts/creativity or naively think “anybody can do that” or “writing is not real labor.”
I’m sad for these lost souls now. If they could only know what riches come from being a writer/artist without apology.
I spent the time I wasn’t in school (I was a professional student at Georgia Tech and Georgia State for most of 20 year!) being a mother. It is work and it is among the best work you will so.
When I told my parents I wanted to be a teacher, they told me I couldn’t. My dad wanted me to be an engineer, my mom wanted me to be an accountant. I became an economist and taught anyway.
I never told them I wanted to be a writer, though. But now my dad’s apparently proud that I am. I don’t make any money, but now I don’t need to.
At school, I wanted to be a musician or a writer, and the careers counsellor told me neither of those would make me a living. She suggested science. My mother wanted me to do none of the above. As far as she was concerned, my purpose was to get married and provide her with grandchildren and home care when she grew old. I failed her miserably (her words, not mine).
I'm pushing toward my 70s and I have yet to make a living out of writing, music or any other creative venture I've pursued. The counsellor appears to have been correct. However, I eventually followed the science route and ended up with a PhD in Zoology, but didn't make a living out of that either. My working life has been characterised by jobs that that pay the bills, some better at providing than others, but with close to zero enjoyment.
Yet I don't regret any choice I've made. Yes, making a living doing something I love would have been wonderful. At least, I think it would. Perhaps the grind of constantly modifying my creativity to suit the market would have killed the joy for me. I'll never know. I can only keep doing what I love for as long as I can.
Angela, even as adults, the world still treats us like children! I am into my fourth decade - and there still has never been a good season in my life to choose anything other than capitalism. The "well meaning judgments" and cautions of my family and everyone else with an opinion, still cause fear and doubt (yeah it's my fault for letting that happen blah blah blah).
At this point, I am the new ghost writer! No one knows that I'm actually kinda a writer, and my money pursuits only serve as the figurative store front money laundering business with dusty shelves - to hide what I really do haha!
My mother constantly said, "I wish you weren't a writer." But I started getting PAID as a writer by writing complaint letter for my family members when I was 8 years old; refunds, coupons, and other compensation poured in. In my daily diary, I had handwritten 7 words above my name: "The pen is mightier than the sword." Then I had my first one-act drama produced when I was 9 years old. My stage play (for a cast of 5 girls) ran for several months in New York City. I got my first poem published at 9 years old - and this honor came with a check. My mother kept saying, "I wish you weren't a writer" when I sat onstage at my graduation and accepted the school's annual gold medal for Literary Achievement . . . I had just turned 16. I knew who I was - - and what I was destined for - - despite my parents' discouragement. "Impostor Syndrome" - - - what the heck is that?
I was a writer-mother who made a decent living at it (retired as a writer employee now but I still write! + my kids are grown but I’m still their mom!), so screw those wannabes who took the “Safe” route.
There’s nothing safe or practical about living an inauthentic life because society said so.
I know many effed up humans who really needed to use their gift of life to make things and express themselves but they sold that part of their soul to the capitalist, patriarchal devil.
Wompwomp now they’re in therapy lamenting the lack of meaning in their lives.
These are the same people who tend to undervalue the arts/creativity or naively think “anybody can do that” or “writing is not real labor.”
I’m sad for these lost souls now. If they could only know what riches come from being a writer/artist without apology.
I spent the time I wasn’t in school (I was a professional student at Georgia Tech and Georgia State for most of 20 year!) being a mother. It is work and it is among the best work you will so.
When I told my parents I wanted to be a teacher, they told me I couldn’t. My dad wanted me to be an engineer, my mom wanted me to be an accountant. I became an economist and taught anyway.
I never told them I wanted to be a writer, though. But now my dad’s apparently proud that I am. I don’t make any money, but now I don’t need to.
As for Mrs. Cole, BOO!
At school, I wanted to be a musician or a writer, and the careers counsellor told me neither of those would make me a living. She suggested science. My mother wanted me to do none of the above. As far as she was concerned, my purpose was to get married and provide her with grandchildren and home care when she grew old. I failed her miserably (her words, not mine).
I'm pushing toward my 70s and I have yet to make a living out of writing, music or any other creative venture I've pursued. The counsellor appears to have been correct. However, I eventually followed the science route and ended up with a PhD in Zoology, but didn't make a living out of that either. My working life has been characterised by jobs that that pay the bills, some better at providing than others, but with close to zero enjoyment.
Yet I don't regret any choice I've made. Yes, making a living doing something I love would have been wonderful. At least, I think it would. Perhaps the grind of constantly modifying my creativity to suit the market would have killed the joy for me. I'll never know. I can only keep doing what I love for as long as I can.
Angela, even as adults, the world still treats us like children! I am into my fourth decade - and there still has never been a good season in my life to choose anything other than capitalism. The "well meaning judgments" and cautions of my family and everyone else with an opinion, still cause fear and doubt (yeah it's my fault for letting that happen blah blah blah).
At this point, I am the new ghost writer! No one knows that I'm actually kinda a writer, and my money pursuits only serve as the figurative store front money laundering business with dusty shelves - to hide what I really do haha!
My mother constantly said, "I wish you weren't a writer." But I started getting PAID as a writer by writing complaint letter for my family members when I was 8 years old; refunds, coupons, and other compensation poured in. In my daily diary, I had handwritten 7 words above my name: "The pen is mightier than the sword." Then I had my first one-act drama produced when I was 9 years old. My stage play (for a cast of 5 girls) ran for several months in New York City. I got my first poem published at 9 years old - and this honor came with a check. My mother kept saying, "I wish you weren't a writer" when I sat onstage at my graduation and accepted the school's annual gold medal for Literary Achievement . . . I had just turned 16. I knew who I was - - and what I was destined for - - despite my parents' discouragement. "Impostor Syndrome" - - - what the heck is that?