Prompt: Money for Nothing
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If I was in my dream job, I’d be famous and fabulously rich.
Signing autograph books, pieces of papers, people’s hands and their shoes and t-shirts, and of course, their books. I would see my books in bookshelves, in book shops, in people’s hands, everywhere. It would be the latest thing.
But the funny thing is, writing is not about the fame, the fortune or even the bookshops. Writing is about the writing. It is about sitting down on your bum and writing that story.
It is the sheer pleasure of writing 25 thousand words (half of 50K).
It is the discovery of something you never knew until you wrote it down.
It is the immense feeling of relief, of sadness and of joy after finishing the 1st draft. Yes, there’s still a long way to go from the first draft but at least, it’s been written.
It’s the sudden realization that hey, I just wrote a book. I’m a writer now.
But I was always a writer.
A writer isn’t just an occupation. If it was, it’d be about the money. But a writer is a person who writes regardless of whether he/she is making any money from it.
The greatest and bestest thing about being a writer is the writing.
So, although it doesn’t feel like it sometimes, and I’m literally broke and unemployed right now, but I am living my dream. Even without the fancy bookshop, even without the book shelve that is lined up with my books, even without an actual book to call my own, I am a writer because I write. And that is the dream that I am living in right now.
It wasn’t what I had expected, but everything about this job is worth it in the end.
PS: The nightmare job would be being a writer without writing.