Why do I do this to myself?
I just sent off a resume–not my nurse resume either. This was the resume I wrote for one of my English classes last semester—one that was writer-oriented. Yeah, that’s right, I’m looking for a “real” writer job—not this “job” of working on my own stuff every day.
I saw the job on Facebook. So it must be legit.
A small press needs first readers to go through the slush pile. And, yes, even with the growth of self-publishing, there are still slush piles that need to be shoveled through.
I don’t even know if I’ll get paid for this “intern” position.
So why did I email my resume?
I sent it in because I wanted to say I was “really” doing something.
But aren’t you really doing something? You’re writing every day.
Well, yes. That’s right I am.
So, why isn’t that enough?
Good question. I guess it’s my work ethic. I need to feel that I’m working at a job.
Then go back to nursing?
Okay, geesh! Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you upset.
I want to do something in publishing, in writing, in books…Something that people see.
Like this blog?
Okay. Now that’s just not fair. I’m the only one who reads this blog…
Well, maybe one other person.
But the things you’ve published already, aren’t they enough…?
What have I done lately?
Okay, explain it to me…slowly. I’m not as bright as you are.
Remember when I would take a vacation and visit Heather in Everett, Washington. I would sit looking out her big front window and watch everyone carrying their briefcases, going to work at the nearby courthouse.
I felt guilty.
Guilty because I wasn’t going to work.
But you were on vacation. A well-earned one, too, I might add.
Well, I still felt guilty and I feel guilty now.
You’re freakin’ retired, nut case.
Yeah, I know…
After almost forty-five years in a profession you really didn’t want.
Yeah, you’re right.
So get over yourself.
Good luck with the resume, ‘though.
No problem. We’re in this together.