A Good Night's Sleep...

...and the wooziness is over. So what do I blog about? Why would anyone care what I have to say? After all, I am not yet a writer, if you go by my list of published works. Or if you go by the reaction I get when I'm at a party and I answer the inevitable what-do-you-do question. Generally, my answer of "I'm a writer," is immediately met with, "Oh, have I read anything you've written?" followed by, "I'm still working on a revision of my novel and am looking for an agent," which leads to, "Oh, so not a real writer then."

Ouch. Just punch me in the gut, please. Quicker and less painful.

Why is it that publication is the only credential that seems to matter to most people? It's akin to the the artist who constantly hears, "Have I heard of you?" Or the actor working in commercials, or off-Broadway, who has to wait tables to make ends meet. Not a real actor at all, right? On the contrary, writers, artists, and actors suffer from the same affliction, the notion that there is something within us that needs a creative outlet, and we happen to choose one of the lowest paying, most competitive fields available.

Consider the following report from PayScale, which analyzes the earning power of a degree:

http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/career-articles-worst_paying_college_degrees-1263

For those of you who don't want to visit the link, let me sum up. The ten worst-paying degrees are as follows:

10. Drama
9. Fine Arts
8. Hospitality and Tourism
7. Education
6. Horticulture
5. Spanish
4. Music
3. Theology
2. Elementary Education
1. Social Work

Yikes.

Writing is typically considered a Fine Arts major. And let me just interject here to give a shout-out to all the teachers I know who choose this profession, even knowing that their contribution to the foundation of all civilized society is unappreciated, undervalued, and frequently the target of state and local budget cuts, while prisons remain well funded (and air conditioned, I might add).

Why do we do it? And why, if we know we are not viewed as "real" do we continue to admit it publicly? Because we can't help it. Because we are who we are, and we breathe it in with every breath. And we know that to deny our creative soul is to die just a little.

So I will continue to admit to being a writer, even when friends (who mean well) and new acquaintances look at you with just a little distrust and think you suffer from delusions of grandeur. And perhaps one day, I will be able to say, "Of course you've heard of me. I'm bigger than J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer put together."

(Ring, ring! Hello, this is delusions of grandeur calling for Jennifer!)