I think it was Shakespeare who said, “life is a SyFi Channel TV movie, and we all are merely Danny and Billy Baldwins trying to stumble our way through a shitty production.”
Before you tell me I quoted him wrong, I refer you to the name of this site.
Now to the point I’m trying to make. Lately I find my role in life is becoming no more unique than that of an everyday background extra.
“Why Jason, you’re a daytime bourbon drinking prick who manages to make a living off the written word. A modern day Hunter S. Thompson. How could you say your life is common? It’s anything but.”
Firstly I would say thank you for the Hunter S. comparison. Secondly, do you know how many people say they’re writers?
Jesus Christ or God Damn! (Pick your taking his name in vain to whichever major white bread religion you associate with.)
I paid my rent today, “Mr. Elia we don’t have an employer name or number on file for you in case of emergency. What do you do? Where do you work?” (Beat) “OMG… Me too.”
Old guy at Macy’s trying to up sell me on a watch, “I write too and I own this very watch. Take it as sign that it’s meant to go on your wrist as well.”
Guy at the gas station where I buy my daily 30 pack of PBR upon over hearing my phone call. “You know I’m a writer too?”
Girl taking my Starbucks order…. Okay, that one is a given.
I, possibly better than anyone understand the need of a day job. I have held many of them before transforming words to rent. There is however a big difference in me and the four people mentioned above. When asked if I had something people could read, the answer was always yes.
Over the last few months whenever the subject of careers comes up, “Oh well I write too.” or some variation of it leaves the lips of whomever I’m speaking with. And I’m sure they do, they write checks, emails, Facebook posts, tweets. They sign their names. But let’s be honest. It doesn’t really go past that.
Every one of us is capable writing the first ten pages of a book that will never see the light of day. That doesn’t make you a writer. What makes you writer? Having the words on paper or posted to blog, that you can show someone when asked.
Don’t degrade me, or the numerous talented writers on this site, or any other site or the literal thousands of dead people in libraries by calling yourself a writer and not having the words to back it up.
You’ve managed a Macy’s for the past 15 years, but yet you’re a writer? No Donna Cavanagh is writer. Because she’s been slanging words for the entire time you’ve been price gouging for Santa Claus pictures.
You were my leasing agent six years ago when I lived here for the first time. I’m sorry but I’m just not buying you has a wordsmith. You know who is though? Deb Martin, she wrote the only romance novel I’ve ever enjoyed.
Come on. You’re a hot pre-menopausal 40 year old woman pouring my coffee….
You know what, you’re milfy and I might want a shot at getting into your pants. So I’ll pretend to buy the fact that you’re a writer too. But you need to start blogging and gain a sense of un-botoxed humor. Because whoever @heydudemeg is, well she’s like half your age, super prolific and doesn’t make lame coffee related jokes. Plus she’s the type of gorgeous that only gets better with age. And won’t need a single shot of poison in her face to stay that way.
Dude, you’re 19, work at a gas station and you’re drunk off your ass while on the job…. if only you had a MySpace blog, you’d be me a decade ago. Wanna have a beer with me in the parking lot?
I’m not trying to discourage anyone from going after the dream of living and writing life, but before you lay claim to that dream, get off your lazy ass and chase it. This career path isn’t a 1990’s “Be like Mike” McDonald’s commercial, where you can go from eating a Quarter Pounder to dunking on Lebron.
The biggest insult I get, and any other writer gets, is when someone claims to be one of us but can’t back it up with a screenplay, a book, a poem or even a blog.
I like to think we support one another. Read each others work and help make each other better. Until we hit mega fame, then we’ll totally forget about all the little people and become self important assholes.
But back on point, life’s a stage, go be on Broadway with Shakespeare and get the hell out of the library unless you’re serious about being here.