I figured it was time to rewrite my Bio when I was so sick of reading it, it made me want to, quick, run to the john and stick a finger down my throat. (Girls, now don't do that really! Been there. Done that. Not worth it).
So who is "me." Who am I? Yeah. In my old bio, I said "I consider myself a mosaic. I am a mother, a wife, a painter of words, a lover of nature, a follower of Jesus, a scientist, a seeker of peace."
Like I said, barf.
I don't know who I am, but I know what I wanna do, oh yeah. I have plans to write a multimillion-selling, Pulitzer-prize-winning book, oh, and I also gotta simultaneously win the Nobel-prize -- oh, that would be in both science and peace -- and OK, listen, I really don't have delusions of grandeur.
So I write. I'm a writer. Yep. But it's not so other-worldy as it sometimes sounds. Au contraire, it is the starving artist syndrome. You start out thinking, ok yea in five years I'll be making $60,000 and my husband can quit his job and we'll travel round the world digging up dino bones and taking pictures of gorillas picking their noses.
The real way it works, is you pour your blood, sweat, and Starbuck's coffee stains into your work and you do it. You make it. You see your name in print in a glossy nationally-published magazine. You can walk into Barnes & Noble bookstores and pick up a magazine and show it around to everyone and say, "Look, that's my name there! In print! My article!"
And no one gives a doodly. Your friends quickly lose their enthusiasm after, say, about 5 seconds. You yearn for the masses to adore you, but the only person asking for your autograph is the sales clerk behind the Starbuck's counter wanting you to sign your debit card receipt.
And so you make a little pocket change, and hey, that's great but your husband is meanwhile making about ten times the amount you do at his 9-to-5. So much for dino bones and nose-picking gorilla photos.
I'm just a'waiting for my ship to come in.
"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."
... Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Email: ecowriter @ ev1.net