I wrapped up an assignment for my temp agency yesterday. It was a data entry gig where I spent eight hours a day entering numbers into a DOS program. I am not going to call the agency and ask for another assignment, I have decided to buckle down and focus on work in my field: Writing. I am a professional writer.
Keeping this blog dry and professional is a challenge for me. No bad jokes, no rambling, nothing personal–I want anyone reading this to see that I am serious and responsible. The artiste in me wants to rebel; my beret wearing alter ego wants to go off on some entertaining yet questionable tangent, but I will keep him in check because I am a professional writer.
I have been writing since I was a kid. It all started when I was 12 and made this homemade book of short stories. Since then I haven’t looked back; I read and write and edit on a daily basis. Everywhere I go I have paper and pens on hand. This is what I do. The thing is, all this stuff about “keeping up appearances” and marketing and having a “respectable web presence” is all new to me. In the past I have let the artiste out but maybe that has been the problem. Perhaps I need to keep him locked up, banished to some hinterland, left in exile.
I am a professional writer. I can write you a letter or story or pretty much anything with words in it. I can edit your business proposal or your novel. Maybe in a few years I can be some oddball in a turtleneck chain smoking and making eccentric observations, but that time is in the future if at all. Right now I have to put forth an image of responsibility and respectability. It’s hard, but I can do it. The artiste is on the train and under guard, on his way out to where the tracks end far from where I am writing this.