I am a poor writer.
Or, rather, I am a writer who happens to be poor. Surely, I am not alone in this. Times are tough and this time of year is no exception. Hell, it’s usually worse. Because not only are we poor, but we need to run the heat, pay for the Holiday meals and all those freaking presents.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the holidays. Like a lot. And I love giving gifts, so that’s not a problem. I’m just broke. Last year my older brother suggested I give my younger brother a story for his birthday. A post apocalyptic tale of zombies and wastelands with my brother as the main character. Which, I gotta say, was a lot of fun to write. And, since I am broke, it did cross my mind to give everyone on my list custom stories for christmas.
Yeah, I know. It’s a horrible idea.
Like, really horrible.
First, I don’t have enough time left to do them all justice. Second, I don’t want to take that much time away from my main writing. Third, well… Stories are a great idea for birthdays, but not so much for Christmas. It just feels a little flat to me. Now, maybe that’s because I’m incredibly insecure, like most writers, and don’t value my work. But the end result is the same. I’m a writer who is poor, but I’ll scrape up the cash for Christmas.