All I want to do is write. I have so many ideas and scenes spinning around in my head, I feel as though my spirit is caught in a whirlpool of fantasy, romance, science fiction, and mystery. I want to get it all down on paper and come up for air. I want to bring it to life.
But I can’t.
Because society has decided that writers must also be editors. And they must also be Facebook masters (“Like” buttons html coding? “Permissions???”). And Twitter afficionados. And they must know how to blog and upkeep their websites. Oh, they must also know some programming. They must be able to design book covers and market via a plethora of avenues that would undoubtedly be better traveled by someone with a marketing degree. In a nutshell, they must be proficient in everything but writing.
The obvious answer to this conundrum would be to hire someone else to do all of these other things so that I can actually write. But in case you were wondering, hiring takes money. Moolah. It also takes enough know-how in those twenty other fields that instructions can be given to the new hire about what exactly they are supposed to do. I don’t even know that much.
I feel as though I’m going to have to go back to school and get a degree in computer programming, social networking, and information systems just to learn how to do all of the dozens of other irritating little things that it takes to be a writer.
But not writing.
That’s not really so much a part of it.
No, writing apparently comes second.