On Writing, From the Mouths of Babes
This morning while I was making breakfast, my 11-year old, out of nowhere, said, "Mom, I just realized something."
"What did you realize?"
"You have two jobs. One as a mother, and one as an author."
I loved having him refer to me as an author!
"You're right," I said, "and the funny part is, I don't get paid for either job."
We talked about it for a minute, and decided I should make $400,000 for the motherhood job ($100K per kid), or the same amount as the President of the United States. For the other job, at this point I think I'd be happy with four figures. So maybe that will be my modest goal for 2009: to earn four figures as an author.
And lest I flag in this endeavor, I'll keep in mind another thing my 11-year old said to me recently. He had been working on one of those absurd book reports they assign in fifth grade--absurd because it was really an art project, one which required drawings of scenes and the main characters, and a five-line summary of the plot, which then had to be cut into pieces resembling a jigsaw puzzle. Projects like this drive my son (and me) insane, because though he loves books, he lacks dexterity and would be much better off just writing the damn report.
In any event, he spent hours on this project, emerging from his rooom periodically to issue progress reports. When he was done, he proudly presented me with the completed assignment and sighed loudly.
"Great job, honey!" I congratulated him.
"And you know the amazing part?" he asked.
"What?"
"This page used to be blank."
A light bulb went on in my stupid little brain. Well duh! I chided myself. All writing starts with a blank page. If I don't work on it, it stays blank. If I want the book done, as I profess, I have to work at it, just like my son did with his project. It's so simple. So why is it so damn hard?
"What did you realize?"
"You have two jobs. One as a mother, and one as an author."
I loved having him refer to me as an author!
"You're right," I said, "and the funny part is, I don't get paid for either job."
We talked about it for a minute, and decided I should make $400,000 for the motherhood job ($100K per kid), or the same amount as the President of the United States. For the other job, at this point I think I'd be happy with four figures. So maybe that will be my modest goal for 2009: to earn four figures as an author.
And lest I flag in this endeavor, I'll keep in mind another thing my 11-year old said to me recently. He had been working on one of those absurd book reports they assign in fifth grade--absurd because it was really an art project, one which required drawings of scenes and the main characters, and a five-line summary of the plot, which then had to be cut into pieces resembling a jigsaw puzzle. Projects like this drive my son (and me) insane, because though he loves books, he lacks dexterity and would be much better off just writing the damn report.
In any event, he spent hours on this project, emerging from his rooom periodically to issue progress reports. When he was done, he proudly presented me with the completed assignment and sighed loudly.
"Great job, honey!" I congratulated him.
"And you know the amazing part?" he asked.
"What?"
"This page used to be blank."
A light bulb went on in my stupid little brain. Well duh! I chided myself. All writing starts with a blank page. If I don't work on it, it stays blank. If I want the book done, as I profess, I have to work at it, just like my son did with his project. It's so simple. So why is it so damn hard?
posted by calabresewoman | 12:45 PM
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