Photo by Angela George

Recovered memory in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…he said what?!

You kind of know me by now, right? Hopefully well enough to agree I’m not given to using this platform to launch self-righteous rants into the social media stratosphere. But this…this…trauma buried so deep until I saw an AARP commercial a few days ago…

Suffice to say if I had a craw (okay, we’ve all got craws that extend and retract-just give me a reason!) this comment from an otherwise affable fellow I met at a Christmas party last year would be nigh impossible for even a crawbar to remove:

“You’re a writer? Oh, that’s just like being retired.”

Um, excuse me?

Oh, I see, you’re saying writing isn’t real work. Writing is shuffleboard on a cruise ship. Putting “affable” and “nigh” in the same sentence comes as easily as stuffing one’s face with Fritos watching reruns of “Criminal Minds” on TNT. (Retired people do that don’t they?)

Let me be clear: This isn’t a diatribe against retired people. I love retired people. But what that (recently retired) guy did, this reflexive move to equate writing with leisure activity, is something I’ve heard too many times and it just burns me up.

Writing can be done for leisure, it can be a hobby, but when pursued seriously requires as much if not more focus, determination, perseverance than any “real” job. Yes, it may appear illegitimate because it can be accomplished while wearing pajamas and often resembles staring blankly into space, but trust me and all the fingernails I’ve chewed down to the nubs, writing is a demanding vocation.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got to go see a craw doctor so I can get back to my lawn bowling–I mean my manuscript.