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shalannaWell, the hurricane blew by to the east of us, and Dallas-Fort Worth didn't see a drop of rain. Everything went east. We did have an overcast Saturday with gusts of wind that broke a lot of small branches off the neighbors' trees and blew them into our front yard (we don't have any trees in the front any more) . . . but that's about all. The people we were helping take care of went back to Houston ("goin' back to Houston . . . "--Dean Martin). I cleaned out the back bedroom, but a lot more needs to be done. I'm waiting to hear back from several editors/agents about various projects. The guy at the grocery store who always is running the express lane checkstand when I run in late at night asked me tonight, "So, what do you DO? I mean, so you write, but what else do you DO?"
. . . good question. No easy answer.
It's not as if I'm a dropout from life. After graduating from SMU with two bachelor's degrees (computer science and math, minor in English), I worked as a software engineer from 1981 to 1997. I was a misfit as a coder and tester, yet I managed to make money doing it, so I felt I "should" be doing it. I worked at Rockwell International (back when the shuttle was brand-new and all the rage) in defense electronics for a couple of years, went to E-Systems in Garland for eight years, got laid off and worked for a few months as a technical writer for a small firm that makes factory control software (because I was so burned out on software and engineering in general), then got sick and didn't work for a few months . . . then got on over at a telecommunications firm where hubby worked. Those two years were spent doing software quality assurance and software quality metrics. (Don't fall forward onto the keyboard asleep just yet. That stuff was just as tedious and boring as it sounds, pretty much.) I was going crazy staring at the screen all day and taking all that rot they said at the meetings "seriously," and started back to grad school pretending I wanted to get an MFA in Teaching, though I really just needed the intellectual stimulation. Finally I just decided that if I ever wanted to get a serious shot at being a novelist, I needed to stop dividing my energy.
Around that time, though, my mother's health had become a concern, and we needed to move her out of the large house she couldn't take care of any longer. So we bought that house from her and gave her our starter home to live in rent-free. She remodeled it (using up a lot of the money she got from the sale of the house, but I couldn't stop her or persuade her to take it easy) and enjoyed that for a while, but then Don's startup company closed its Texas offices and he was out of work for three months. We knew we couldn't make both house payments any more. Mama broke her arm that weekend, and we all decided to sell that house and move her in with us. That took time and changed all our lifestyles slightly. It's better now, though, because this is a more affordable way to do things. Still, it wouldn't hurt if I brought in a little income now and then.
I'm sure the grocery guy thinks we're independently wealthy or something. From his mind to God's ear! Everyone wonders why I don't "do something." It seems to me every day that I do quite a lot, but it's not stuff that shows. Housework and maintenance and going to the doctor and taking care of the dog and exercising and cooking and cleaning up and stealing time to read e-mail and write or play piano . . . that takes all the time there is. I have to make a special effort if there's a Mensa board meeting or a book club meeting, because I always seem to be running like a soccer mom. I'm always busy with something, either an obligation or one of my projects. I don't know how people with children do it! My hat is off to 'em. They are probably organized. (grin)
I do manage to get some writing done just about every day. Checking the e-mail and the web serves as a mental health break a couple of times a day. When I work on queries or write a chapter or edit a manuscript, I count that as working, even though it isn't officially "work." It's tough to explain that to people who don't do something that takes a lot of time and doesn't seem to have a lot of results . . . but musicians, painters, sculptors, craftspeople (scrapbookers included), and actors seem to understand better.
Whoever said that if you can do something ELSE other than write, you should do it . . . is right. Most other pursuits are less solitary and more profitable. There are so MANY books being published now that it's a wonder any of them get any attention. Still, those of us who dream like to dream big. We're out here plugging away at it.
In our copious "spare time," I mean.
. . . good question. No easy answer.
It's not as if I'm a dropout from life. After graduating from SMU with two bachelor's degrees (computer science and math, minor in English), I worked as a software engineer from 1981 to 1997. I was a misfit as a coder and tester, yet I managed to make money doing it, so I felt I "should" be doing it. I worked at Rockwell International (back when the shuttle was brand-new and all the rage) in defense electronics for a couple of years, went to E-Systems in Garland for eight years, got laid off and worked for a few months as a technical writer for a small firm that makes factory control software (because I was so burned out on software and engineering in general), then got sick and didn't work for a few months . . . then got on over at a telecommunications firm where hubby worked. Those two years were spent doing software quality assurance and software quality metrics. (Don't fall forward onto the keyboard asleep just yet. That stuff was just as tedious and boring as it sounds, pretty much.) I was going crazy staring at the screen all day and taking all that rot they said at the meetings "seriously," and started back to grad school pretending I wanted to get an MFA in Teaching, though I really just needed the intellectual stimulation. Finally I just decided that if I ever wanted to get a serious shot at being a novelist, I needed to stop dividing my energy.
Around that time, though, my mother's health had become a concern, and we needed to move her out of the large house she couldn't take care of any longer. So we bought that house from her and gave her our starter home to live in rent-free. She remodeled it (using up a lot of the money she got from the sale of the house, but I couldn't stop her or persuade her to take it easy) and enjoyed that for a while, but then Don's startup company closed its Texas offices and he was out of work for three months. We knew we couldn't make both house payments any more. Mama broke her arm that weekend, and we all decided to sell that house and move her in with us. That took time and changed all our lifestyles slightly. It's better now, though, because this is a more affordable way to do things. Still, it wouldn't hurt if I brought in a little income now and then.
I'm sure the grocery guy thinks we're independently wealthy or something. From his mind to God's ear! Everyone wonders why I don't "do something." It seems to me every day that I do quite a lot, but it's not stuff that shows. Housework and maintenance and going to the doctor and taking care of the dog and exercising and cooking and cleaning up and stealing time to read e-mail and write or play piano . . . that takes all the time there is. I have to make a special effort if there's a Mensa board meeting or a book club meeting, because I always seem to be running like a soccer mom. I'm always busy with something, either an obligation or one of my projects. I don't know how people with children do it! My hat is off to 'em. They are probably organized. (grin)
I do manage to get some writing done just about every day. Checking the e-mail and the web serves as a mental health break a couple of times a day. When I work on queries or write a chapter or edit a manuscript, I count that as working, even though it isn't officially "work." It's tough to explain that to people who don't do something that takes a lot of time and doesn't seem to have a lot of results . . . but musicians, painters, sculptors, craftspeople (scrapbookers included), and actors seem to understand better.
Whoever said that if you can do something ELSE other than write, you should do it . . . is right. Most other pursuits are less solitary and more profitable. There are so MANY books being published now that it's a wonder any of them get any attention. Still, those of us who dream like to dream big. We're out here plugging away at it.
In our copious "spare time," I mean.
