I linked something I wrote rather than explaining that something. And that person found themselves on the page, reading multiple posts. And they ask me, why aren’t you a writer. Which is kinda insulting. Well meaning and I understood what they meant, but insulting. Because, I am a writer. Obviously.
But what they mean is why am I not doing that for money. For a career. And I said, well it doesn’t pay well. And that’s true enough that people accept the answer.
And in some ways, I do wish it were my career but not if I was made to write at the behest of others. And that limits me. To the rolls of the dice. Because the things I best write are rants and poetry.
Though the better reality is that I’ve been paid beyond funds by my writing.
It’s been my therapy. It’s been the only constant that I count on. It has brought me to many people who I love. And some are still in my life.
More than that, I’ve been told how what I’ve written meant something to people. That it made their lives better. And even further than that.
So, as an artist, what else could I really ask for?
Financial success doesn’t make an artists career. Instead it’s those lives that the art has touched.
And I know in that regard, at least for the past, I am successful.
Not by finances or by standard measure. But in truth. In the lives who have been positively affected.
I am a writer. I am a poet.
It’s enough, I think.