The Pleasure was all Mine
Thanks to everyone who de-lurked Monday. It was very nice to meet you all. Sometimes I feel like I am typing into the big black void of computer wasteland, so it's good to know there are a few readers out there.
Everyone who commented yesterday is entered in the contest to win a free book of your choosing from Amazon. I may even draw three winners, depending on how Smokey the cat feels about it. (He is in charge of drawing names, of course).
Smokey's nannies are out of town this week, but hopefully I will have the winners by this friday.
Why I Call Myself a Typist, not a Writer
Unpublished writers often debate the best way to explain what it is we do. Do we call ourselves "writers" when we aren't getting paid for it?
To each his own, but for me, I call myself a "Typist". The reason for this is simple. Whenever I answer "What do you do?" with "I'm a writer", the following chains of conversation inevitably take place, and it makes me feel like a big doofus:
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
I could write a book. Quick way to make a buck, right?
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
Like that Potter guy?
Who?
The boy wizard.
No.
You write books?
Yeah. I try.
(In bad Yoda voice): Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.
(Awkward pause)
Umm… thanks.
So, when does your book come out?
It’s a long process.
I’ve got a printer out back. Let’s get this thing going. Family discount.
You’re a writer? Have I heard of you?
Well, Aunt Meg, it’s me. Brodi. Joan’s daughter.
(Pause)
I think I’ve heard of you.
Only since, like, birth, and every subsequent Christmas Party.
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
I just read a book.
Which one?
Something about… oh, what was it?
Was it vampires in high school?
Yes. That was it. Did you write that?
No.
Aren’t all writers mad as snakes?
Yes.
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
Do you know Stephenie Meyer?
No.
But, you’re both writers and both Mormons.
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
No wonder your kids are so… unique.
Is your book out yet?
No.
Now is it out?
No.
Now is it out?
No.
Can you get me Stephenie Meyer’s autograph?
Um, sure. I mean, we're both Mormons, and we're both writers.
Finally, after learning my lesson, here’s my new answer:
So, Brodi, what do you do?
I’m a typer. I type. Like on a computer.
Ah. (Nods in approval) Yes. Good for you.
I won't be here Friday, because I'm flying to L.A. for the semi-annual SCBWI conference. (Which stands for: Writing a Bunch of Stuff for Kids and Teens Conference). I am way excited for this adventure. Anyone from L.A. area?
Sam will still post the winners of the de-lurking contest on Friday (if the planets align and Smokey works his magic). And then I'll try to post on Monday with all of the conference shenanigans.
Have a fantabular week, y'all.
Thanks to everyone who de-lurked Monday. It was very nice to meet you all. Sometimes I feel like I am typing into the big black void of computer wasteland, so it's good to know there are a few readers out there.
Everyone who commented yesterday is entered in the contest to win a free book of your choosing from Amazon. I may even draw three winners, depending on how Smokey the cat feels about it. (He is in charge of drawing names, of course).
Smokey's nannies are out of town this week, but hopefully I will have the winners by this friday.
Why I Call Myself a Typist, not a Writer
Unpublished writers often debate the best way to explain what it is we do. Do we call ourselves "writers" when we aren't getting paid for it?
To each his own, but for me, I call myself a "Typist". The reason for this is simple. Whenever I answer "What do you do?" with "I'm a writer", the following chains of conversation inevitably take place, and it makes me feel like a big doofus:
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
I could write a book. Quick way to make a buck, right?
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
Like that Potter guy?
Who?
The boy wizard.
No.
You write books?
Yeah. I try.
(In bad Yoda voice): Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.
(Awkward pause)
Umm… thanks.
So, when does your book come out?
It’s a long process.
I’ve got a printer out back. Let’s get this thing going. Family discount.
You’re a writer? Have I heard of you?
Well, Aunt Meg, it’s me. Brodi. Joan’s daughter.
(Pause)
I think I’ve heard of you.
Only since, like, birth, and every subsequent Christmas Party.
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
I just read a book.
Which one?
Something about… oh, what was it?
Was it vampires in high school?
Yes. That was it. Did you write that?
No.
Aren’t all writers mad as snakes?
Yes.
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
Do you know Stephenie Meyer?
No.
But, you’re both writers and both Mormons.
You’re a writer?
Yeah.
No wonder your kids are so… unique.
Is your book out yet?
No.
Now is it out?
No.
Now is it out?
No.
Can you get me Stephenie Meyer’s autograph?
Um, sure. I mean, we're both Mormons, and we're both writers.
Finally, after learning my lesson, here’s my new answer:
So, Brodi, what do you do?
I’m a typer. I type. Like on a computer.
Ah. (Nods in approval) Yes. Good for you.
I won't be here Friday, because I'm flying to L.A. for the semi-annual SCBWI conference. (Which stands for: Writing a Bunch of Stuff for Kids and Teens Conference). I am way excited for this adventure. Anyone from L.A. area?
Sam will still post the winners of the de-lurking contest on Friday (if the planets align and Smokey works his magic). And then I'll try to post on Monday with all of the conference shenanigans.
Have a fantabular week, y'all.
