Wednesday, March 20, 2013

More crazy thoughts from Carissa

This popped up on my wall today, I think it may have come from a post from my publisher- it struck a chord. I was having a midnight convo with one of my god children who is on track to get her MFA in about eighteen months. She was lamenting the upcoming gathering of family that would once again bring on the "So, what are you studying in college?" and the inevitable looks that read, "Oh great, Polly Anna thinks she can make a dollar writing stories, she'll never get out of her parents basement." or "well, she is her father's child." (he plays bass for a rather famous band) This gifted child, Maddy, was part of a program that went to Japan last fall, she wrote a students guide to traveling while on this little adventure, took her own photos,got the inside scoop from locals on what foreign visitors should know, etc. The guide sold and is going to be marketed this coming fall. Not too shabby for an 18 yr old.(or anyone else) My advice was to suck it up and say the words, "I am a writer, an author, a story teller. I make people laugh, cry, dream, get angry, and a host of other things and I love my job." From time to time I think we all have those moments where we wonder- what in thunder brought us here? No answers...not a clue...not even a hint. I don't care why, I just know I am a writer...and I love my job. My immediate herd of "supervisors" can be annoying & loud, but then again, they're dogs. No man bashing, real dogs,a beagle, a lab, a Saint barn yard, a weimer, (and 2 cats) and from time to time, they find themselves as study subjects for part of a story so I guess it's even. It also goes paw in hand with my theory that at some point in time, I will create a character that draws heavily from people and critters I know, because I can do that- I'm a writer. My friends preface things with, "This is not story fodder." and they know better, it is a real probability that it will show up in some form at some point. Coming home from Alpena last week I was hit with the perfect name for not only my LC in a new story, but also the town, so I pulled off the road, perched on a snow bank and dug through my bag until I unearthed my notebook. I was intent on scribbling this stuff down, so when the cop knocked on my window- I about jumped out of my skin. It was a rather odd conversation with him as he tried to figure out if I was under the influence, lost, in danger, and I assured him all was well- I'm just older than dirt & have story line ADD so I wanted to get it down...he gave me that deer in the headlights look, I laughed. Not advised. As he wandered off I heard him mutter, "a writer,like my day isn't crazy enough." I thought about being offended, but in some odd way, I was amused, so plan B...he'll wind up in a story. After all, I am a writer.


Diane Kidman said...

A great article! I just discovered your blog, and I look forward to digging in. I'm a GR writer as well, and I, too, suffer from all the confusion that accompanies that job title. To me, it's the greatest job in the world and I'm always baffled when people find out, glaze over, then change the subject. I don't understand this. Being a writer is better than being a rock star. Except no one recognizes you. And trashing hotel rooms isn't really part of the deal, either. But I wouldn't do anything else.

Carissa's Musings said...

welcome to the jungle :) and you are so right.

Patricia Kiyono said...

Nice post, Carissa. And Diane, I like the thought of being compared to a rock star. I don't mind not being recognized in public.