So What Do You Do?

Apparently, I steal my son’s ideas. Okay, I don’t do that for a living, but this is my son’s idea for his blog this week. I decided to write about this because I struggle with the same thing. Only I have a different problem than my son has.

Once upon a time, I worked as a nurse. I worked critical care areas and was familiar and friendly with many doctors. Some really good doctors, some not so good. I was on a first name basis with a few of my friends, who just happened to be doctors.

I helped a friend through law school. I know a little bit of law crap just from reading all the texts that I helped him with. I can even argue points of law and be correct. Well, I used to be able to do that. I know that all lawyers aren’t really scum, but there are days when I have to agree with Shakespeare.

I do not accord people much in the way of respect for a title. I understand the usefulness of a title. It gives you an indication of the person’s self-worth if not their net worth. People who insist on introducing themselves as a doctor or a lawyer have a definite liking for their degree. It’s an indication that should be taken to heart.

That isn’t my problem. My problem is in telling people what I do. I used to be a nurse. Then I was a teacher and then I helped the teachers. Then I was a secretary. Now I am a writer. Of sorts. Unpublished. To date. Shhh. It’s a secret. I am embarrassed.

If I tell people I am writing a book, they ask what sort of book. When I mention that it is non-fiction there is a stunned look. If I go on to tell what I’m doing, people look at me like I’m either on a pedestal because they don’t write at all, or below sea level because they can think of nothing less important.

There is also the possibility that what I write will never be published. However, I think that what I’m writing is interesting and would serve a useful purpose and make a nice book. Otherwise, I wouldn’t waste my time writing it. I would write something else. Something that I think would be useful and make a nice book. Something that might be published.

But what happens if it is never published – perish the thought. What do I call myself? I usually tell anyone who asks that I am retired. No one is really all that interested and I rarely get a – from what? – response. Unfortunately, no one ever says – my, you are so young to be retired – but that is a whole different issue.

I am retired. I used to work and now I don’t. I’m retired. I am writing a book and by definition, that makes me a writer. I think. But I’m embarrassed by my own attempt. So please, don’t tell anyone.