Another Final Draft...

This piece has been floating around in varies forms for years and a rough original appears on this blog. The final copy has been published a couple of times and can be found at the moment on Absolutewrite.com in the humor section.

Final Draft:

The Writing Life...

Often young aspiring writers ask me,

“What’s it like to be a writer? Is it difficult to come up with ideas? How DO you find the time?”

OK. I made that up. No one has ever asked me those questions.

However, if anyone ever did bother to ask me, I would be happy to tell them that the writer’s life is in fact the glamorous, rewarding and profitable existence they imagine it to be. At least I imagine it is. I’ll let you know if I ever find out.

Though it may appear to be an exciting whirlwind of talk shows, book signings and stalker fans, it is so much more than that. The writing life is a life of deep commitment and personal sacrifice.

Sacrifice? Am I speaking of the blood and the sweat? The vulnerability of bearing one’s soul to the masses?

Nah…I’m talking about real sacrifice

I’m talking about having the guts…no, the moxey, to take that final step towards propelling yourself past the mere dabbler and into the world of the serious artist.

Give up your clothes.

No, I’m not talking nudist. Try to stick with me folks.

You may have heard that Einstein owned seven identical suits in order to keep his brilliant mind free of such mundane tasks as having to decide what to wear each morning. We’re working with the same principle here.

In order to become a writer of great caliber, sitting in front of your computer all day in flannel pants and a tie dyed, “Jesus Is My Health Insurance” T-shirt is not an option. It’s mandatory. The bathrobe is optional however, depending on both modesty and weather conditions.

This is where the sacrifice comes in.

Even a high powered writer has a life beyond the muse, however limited it may be. The successful writer soon discovers that no matter how rich or famous you eventually become, at some point, you will need to go to the DMV.

Only a true artist is willing to show up at the bank, parent teacher conferences and Christmas dinner with the in-laws in the proud uniform of the professional writer. If you are sincerely devoted to the idea of becoming a “real” writer, you must be prepared to spend the rest of your life answering the question,

“Do you have the flu or something?“

So stand tall. Puff out your chest, and declare your proud identity to the world,

“I am not a bag lady, I AM A WRITER!“

And remember future writers, it is not illegal to drive while wearing bunny slippers in most states.