Perspective, Continued.

So after my "experience as an expat" conversation with the lady in the spot next to me at the boot sale (back up and read the previous post if you need to catch up) I was glad that I brought my lap top so I could work on edits for my book during the lulls if I needed to. Which I did from then on after that conversation.

But at one point, she did ask me what I was doing and if I was able to concentrate with everything else going on.

So I explained. I was working on a mystery novel, and while the creative part - the writing of new words - needed quiet and solitude (or at least a cozy coffee shop), I had learned to do the edits amidst a plethora of distractions. I have three children, after all, I have to do a lot of things with a plethora of distractions.

She asked if she could read my books anywhere yet -- everyone always asks that when I tell them I am working on a book. I explained that first, I had to find an agent. Then, the agent had to sell it, etc. etc. (I've come to learn that writing the book itself is actually the easiest part of the process.)

She looked at me, and I could almost see a thought bubble above her head that said: "You are insane." 

And then I got some more of her wise words (seriously, go back and read the previous post if you haven't yet.)  Which were, something to the effect of: that's a boatload of work that you have to do for something you might not ever get paid for doing. (I so want to tell you her nationality right now, but again, I won't contribute to stereotypes.)

I calmly explained to her that writing was something I did because it was my passion.*  Something I lived  to do. Something that if I didn't do, I would explode. (Ok, so it wasn't quite as eloquent as that. My memory has built it up just a touch.) But I did tell her that writing wasn't a job for me, it was something I did for fun, not for money. If the money ever came, that would be a bonus.** I explained that most days, I would rather write my own stories than watch television or read a book.

She looked at me skeptically and raised a single eyebrow.

I smiled politely, opened my laptop and got to work. And was so very grateful I had made that trip back into the house to get my computer before I left that morning.

At the time, I remember feeling annoyed that I had to explain myself to her. I even felt a little bad for this lady, who had such a narrow view of the world and her place in it. But now, I look back on the conversation and I am grateful for it. Because now that we are living the reality of a move, and I am receiving one rejection letter after another, and the days have brought more discouragement than not, I think back to this conversation and it reminds me why I'm doing what I am doing. Anytime you have a chance to stop and reflect on your purpose, it's a good thing.

* I need to put in a footnote. A thank you to my Management Professor from the University of St. Thomas who told us -  over, and over, and over again - "to find our passion and pursue it." I know, it sounds simple enough, but to a college kid who is hungover from Thirsty Thursday, and "living in the moment" more than any other person on the planet, it's a good thing to have echo in your head all these years later.

**Ok, I admit, getting paid for my writing would be more than a nice bonus. The validation would be incredible. And seeing my name on the cover of a book is my biggest daydream. But for purposes of this conversation, I stuck with the altruistic explanation.