Sept. 29, 2001
I went out tonight to the cafe with Chris to celebrate my article being accepted into another magazine and also to talk about my docent program and my upcoming art class.
He sipped his coffee and I my chai tea and we talked about what part creativity played in our lives and how important it was to not just myself, but to him as well.
I told him that if I do get another job down the road it will be in a field that I am loving. This is why my art class & training as a Docent at the Art Museum have been very important to me – they’re opening my eyes to new directions and paths that I might one day want to be on.
However, right now, I just want to write 100% of the time, because that’s when I’m the happiest, most content and also, the proudest.
I discussed with him money concerns. Although we live simply and totally within our means I can’t help but sometimes feel like I’m bringing in less than I should – or could. He reminded me that we are already taken care of and anything more is just a bonus. And that by writing and going to art school, I am investing in myself, and if I can’t invest in myself than what I’m really saying is I don’t believe in myself.
And I believe in all of this more than anything.
So we chatted for quite some time, long after our drinks went empty. And as we were chatting some man next to us began to talk to us.
He asked us what we did.
And without hesitation, without blinking an eye, without stuttering or trying to think, I said, “I’m a writer.”
That felt so good. I had been so shy about it before, always afraid the person would ask me more questions than I could handle and I’d come out looking like an ass and not, in fact, a writer.
But tonight, I was confident. And when he asked me what I wrote for I told him that I wrote articles for magazines.
“My wife’s been wanting to do that for years,” he said.
“She should try it,” I said back. “It’s actually pretty easy.”
“Easy? That’s probably easy for you to say,” he said.
“All you have to do is try,” I said back.