Gee, Why couldn’t you come up with Harry Potter?

Okay, it’s simple (and unfortunately unoriginal) but it fits here…

I write, therefore I am (a writer).

But

I don’t like to mention it in mixed company.

Now I’m down with the whole New Age throw it out to the universe, believe in yourself, write it down a hundred times a day and chant it, you are what you think philosophy. So that on most days, as I sit down with fingers to keyboard, dog curled at my feet, and write, I believe I’m working toward something. The words come out, the scenes are written, the characters that talk to me are alive on a page and all feels right with the world. When I have a good writing day it’s like I’m high on a drug with no bad side effects. If that’s not being a writer, than what is?

Try explaining that to your loved ones, who would rather you cook dinner, play dress-up or take them shopping at Target. I shouldn’t complain because my family supports me in more ways than I probably even know.

Writing? They just don’t get it.

My parents who have logged countless hours of unpaid babysitting in my pursuit of publication still refer to my critique group as my writing class. My children, whom I adore unconditionally, sometimes wonder aloud why Mom is at the darn computer so much. And just the other day my husband alluded to my writing as a hobby. What’s a writer to do?

The pinnacle of this not understanding is when my Dad, who is wonderful beyond imagining, said to me after I came home from my critique group, "Too bad you couldn’t come up with something like Harry Potter."

How do you reply to that?

A shrug of the shoulders, a polite laugh and smile? (which is what I did)

or

Well, yeah, that would be great, let me just go whip my muse with a cat o’ nine tails and yell "Give me a bestseller NOW!" (which is what I wanted to say, but scary thing is…I think my muse would like it – the whip thing, not the demand for a bestseller)

So my question is this, how do you take yourself seriously, when the people, who love and support you, just don’t "get it"? That when I’m staring off into space, I’m not only daydreaming - I’m getting my story together. All those hours spent at the computer, I’m actually creating a completely different world. One I hope that will enchant and delight readers for years to come.

In the future, I know, I’ll think about all these frustrations and laugh.

I just hope I’m not wearing a straitjacket by then.