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Getting Away With It or "Excuse Me while I Gush"
Rosemary Clement-Moore recently posted about her dream job on Genreality, which got me to thinking (surprise!).
What constitutes a dream job?
For me, a dream job is something you feel like you're getting away with. It's funny how that post title comes back to haunt us.
Imagine, if you will. You get a job as a beer taster. This probably happens at some point: "I'm a beer taster. I better keep my head down before they realize they're paying me to drink."
So, what makes writing my dream job? I'd do it if no one paid me. Don't get the wrong idea. I need money. I like buying things, and I would love to get paid to write. It's possible that the business depends on this attitude, which is why everything is negotiated. I still feel like I'm getting away with something.
At ConDFW, it did not occur to me to ask anyone if they ever felt like it was too good to be true. I am Liz Lemon, looking in from the outside, saying: "I want to go to there." With a little Wayne and Garth thrown in.
Do humans underestimate the value of their own brains? Is it conceited of me to assume anyone will want to see the things that keep me up at night?
I operated under the assumption that my creativity was a disease much like alcoholism. Maybe I could handle it by myself, but I shouldn't drag others into that mess. I would only hurt the ones I love. So, I joined a group to help me deal with my addiction.
Turns out they're all enablers.
DFW Writers' Workshop is a support group. Every Wednesday, I want to stand up and say, "My name is Kate, and I'm a writer. I started seeing things when I was six, so I put them on paper."
Cue soft applause.