As I write this, I’m watching Giadi DiLaurentis make homemade hazelnut spread on the Food Network. And every time I watch shows where people are getting paid—handsomely—for doing exactly what they love to do, I get this surge of envy that goes through me.
Now, that might also be because I’ve been having a particularly bad time at work lately and my desire to leave has kicked up a notch.
Speaking of Emeril, I once saw him on a game show (Celebrity Something-or-Another) and when they were talking to the celebrity contestants, I remember Emeril saying, “I’m so lucky to be able to get up every morning and do what I love to do.”
That has stuck with me for years because, well, for those of us who don’t earn a living from what we love, it’s an enviable position to be in.
I take my comfort in knowing that although I don’t earn a living from it (and probably never will), I have my writing to offset the heinousness of my day-to-day working life. It’s not always easy to remember that, especially during particularly bad periods. But even when I’m not consciously thinking, “Thank god I have my writing,” it nevertheless acts as therapy when I do it. Even when I’m so depressed about work or whatever and feel like I’m trudging through my writing, when I’ve come out the other end, I find myself with a finished (or partially finished) work, and it feels really good.
It would still be all kinds of awesome if I could make enough money to live on from the things I enjoy doing, but I live in the real world and bills have to be paid with real money. But I know that whatever stupidness, and whatever narcissistic, power-tripping asshats I have to deal with every day, I have my fictional worlds to step into and my zany but always intelligent character to talk to.
Now, if I could just sign a six-figure deal…