I was interviewing for a job I didn’t want—some position at a grocery store that I didn’t actually apply for. I don’t even really know what the position was and I never did hear anything back about it even though they said they would call in a few days one way or another. I wanted out of the grocery industry for sure, but at the time I desperately needed a job, so I couldn’t really say no to the interview. It was conducted in a very small, very cold office where I sat in an old, rusty metal fold-out chair shivering despite wearing a long-sleeve dress shirt and tie in the middle of August.
Whether it’s 100% relevant to the job or not, I always
include somewhere on my resume that I edit and self-publish a literary magazine
and that I am a writer. I often get questions about it during the
interview—generally in regards to what kind of time commitment it is. You know,
in case it would take attention away from my “real” job if hired. At this
particular interview, the question was asked, “So, you want to be a writer?”
“So you want to be a writer?”
Like, what kind of
question is that? I wondered to myself. Don’t
you see on this resume right in front of you that I am in fact a writer? Does
it not say that I am a published writer? Does it not say that I write poems and
stories and novels and blogs? Why are you asking if I want to be a writer?
I didn’t know how to answer her question without sounding
like a dick so I just said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
I wondered if she had ever read a book. Then I wondered if
that was a little judgmental to think. But I didn’t care much. I figured she
had probably read 50 Shades of Grade
or Twilight. Maybe a Nora Roberts
book or two.
I don’t want to be
a writer; I am a writer. Like,
goddamn woman. If you want to be a writer, you pick up a pen and paper and you
write. Or you grab a laptop. I’ve done that. I’ve written. I’ve written a lot. I am a writer. I wrote this right here
that you’re reading. I sometimes even introduce myself to people as a writer.
Here’s the thing. I’m a writer right now, but what I want to
be is a successful writer. I want to
write and get paid to do it. I want to publish a bestseller and not have to
work a real job ever again. There are no applications or job fairs for that.
That requires real work and effort. It is email after email after email to
agents and publishers. It is countless rejection letters. It is not taking it
to heart. It is perseverance. It is writing and writing and writing and writing
and writing and writing and writing and never stopping. I know what I want and
I will achieve it.
