So maybe I do demand your undivided attention… even while you’re asleep. Yes, you might want to erect a statue to me… for no apparent reason. And no, I won’t discourage you from bowing down to me when you hear my latest plan for moving up the literary ladder.
Why do I have such ridiculously high expectations from all of you? Because I’ve decided to be a big name writer.
You’re probably thinking to yourself; Paul, you, a big name writer?
How could you ever hope to compete with the likes of Carlo Alessandro Agostino of Milwaukee, who writes about his obsession with the Wienerschnitzel down the street? Or Helga Smitzer Schulz of Rome, who writes volumes about her Italian heritage?
And how could you ever be mentioned in the same company of a Melvin Elimelech Swimmell of Japan, who writes Greek mystery novels in Yiddish?
Well, I couldn’t.
But then again, maybe you had some smaller named writers in mind, like Agatha Christie, Mark Twain, or John Updike.
Could it be you all were thinking of me becoming some big name moneymaking novelists like James Patterson, J. K. Rowling, or John Grisham?
Not that I wouldn’t love being in the company of their money. Yet, what is it that will set me apart from all of those renowned writers, you ask?
It’s because I write something every single day. Unfortunately, I only press the publish button for any one of these posts of mine, about every two weeks.
But I’d bet Jane Austin can’t say that!
So take that, you big name authors who only publish books every other year or so. And you call yourself writers?
I’ll show you a real writer.
What about my writing down my son’s name on his lunch bags every single day—including Saturdays and Sundays. And what about those grocery lists I do for my wife—including items my wife happens to forget—like beer and chips.
Also what about those love notes I tenderly scribble down for my wife, lovingly left under her pillow, filled with copious amounts of bad grammar and poor punctuation, just so she can correct my mistakes.
Then there are those nasty letters that I anonymously penned to the power company, whereby I complained about how they spelled my last name wrong—and yet they still expected me to pay!
They must have me confused with some other disgruntled writer of a customer.
However, I realize many of these so-called big-name authors might counter with the claim, that they get paid to write and therefore, ahem, should be referred to as… professional writers.
Bet they think they’ve got me over a barrel with that one.
Well, I’m happy to report that I do get paid to write. Yes. that’s right, you heard me correctly… I do get paid to write.
You see, I’ve learned that if you write and ask people for money they just give it to you. I think they call this extortion, blackmail, or something like that. But then who cares… as long they pay me, right?
Anyway, give me enough time and I bet I could turn this kind of writing gig into a real profession.
I’m going to hit the big time now!