So here I sit in a coffee shop working. (Again.)
It’s supposed to be some kind of dream job or something, right?
The funny thing is, despite having been a writer now for eight years, despite having written and had published six books of my own, I mostly feel like I have no idea how to be a writer and like I’m not quite sure this is the career for me.
For a while, I thought the easy answer to such uncertainty was that I definitely wanted to work in publishing, just not as a writer. That train of thought suggested quite clearly that in all actuality what I wanted to be was an editor (after all, the one is undoubtably the alter-ego of the other). Having spent the better part of a year as a full-time editor rather than just a contract lackie, however, I’m now quite positive that I really do not want to be an editor.
What do I want to do? Is there a career that I a) like and b) understand how to do anywhere in this morass at all?
I call myself a writer on my tax forms and it’s where most of my income has been generated since I was basically a kid, but I’ll be damned if the label doesn’t feel strange on me, like hat that doesn’t match my face or a sport jacket three sizes too big. Do all “writers” feel so strange about what they do?
It would be nice if I could at least make a comfortable (as opposed to an uncomfortable) living with it.