I'm an Author

What my mom thinks I do.

      Well my mom doesn't think anything as she is no longer with us. She would have been amazed that I could even string a sentence together as English was never my best subject at school. I was much better at breaking windows with my football.
      She would also have been shocked at what I have written in my novels. In fact I dare not have written them while she was alive.

What society thinks I do.

Well I'm not rolling in money that's for sure. I wear my clothes to destruction and travel everywhere on the bus using my bus pass, not very glamorous being an author is it? Some people may have the misguided impression that I know what I'm talking about, but to emulate my literary career  would be folly indeed.

What my partner thinks I do.

My wife thinks I hide in the spare bedroom and play on the computer all day rather than pulling my weight with the household chores. If only she knew the torture I put myself through in the name of art, while all she has to do it wash, iron, vacuum, and dust, cook and shop, and bring me coffee and cake to ease my torment.

What do I think I do?

In my world of self delusion I see a glittering literary career. I see bestsellers and film deals, Oscars and Bafta's. I also see myself playing football for Manchester United. It does no harm to dream.

What I really do.

 What I really do is spend all  day on facebook, Linkedin, Google+, and twitter, building a platform, on the advice of other authors. When I'm not doing that I'm in the process of never ending edits and rewrites, which gives me little  time for new projects.

What I want to do.

All any writer wants to do is write. When I first set out to write a novel I never envisage the rocky road on which I was embarking. Once upon a time, if you could bypass the guardians at the door, a publisher would relieve the author of the burden of editing and marketing.  Happy days. This situation has changed and if an author is unable to market he will never be successful no matter how good a writer he is.

Dear Aggie is it time to put my head in the gas oven?