Okay, so back in high school I was a total nerd. I say "was" because I can fake it better now . . . thank goodness. I mean, just imagine what the popular kids would say . . . err, not the aspect I want to focus on (though, being a nerd—and the fact that I grew boobs—help a little bit with my "author's life" in general . . . don't ask).
As an author, in this day an age, we're expected to be in constant learning mode. Every time I think I have something figured out, there's something new to learn—exactly like a teenager learning about life, fake friends, and algebra. We have to market ourselves so the popular kids, a.k.a. readers, accept us and not make fun of us. We have to watch our backs from the bullies, and we have to stand up for those in our clique. Not to mention sweat bullets when the midterm exam comes around, because we were busy shopping at the mall instead of studying. In our case, wait until the last possible minute to meet our deadlines. 'Cause come on, so what if ARCs are supposed to go out in two days? Imma crank my CD player up, revise, chew bubble gum, edit, format, text mah girls, stalk the cute boy online, AND send the ARCs out right on time. Because BOOM! That's how teenagers roll yo.
But seriously, how am I supposed to call myself a writer in this century? Half the time I'm off researching and/or learning new things, the other half I'm out "selling" myself. Where is the actual writing? Sure, I suppose way back when it wasn't easy either, but I'm here now. And the writing world now demands we learn entrepreneurial madness if we dare call ourselves authors. Like ermahgerd!
How bout you?
How is high school treating you?
PS. You can find a guest post on my take of giving writerly advice over at The Writer Diaries. Hint: I fear doing that thing.