After a week back to work, I've decided I want to be a writer instead...

I've just started back to work after a relatively lengthy medical leave of absence. The leave was miserable, painful, involved two surgeries and a hundred times where I thought I'd much rather be at work than dealing with this stuff. After one week back, I've decided I want to become a writer and below are the top ten reasons why.

1. Not to blow my own horn or anything but I'm pretty good at it. I have it on great authority that some of my writing has made no less than six people laugh out loud...on purpose...through no fault of typographical errors. These were six different people, in six different places at six different times. At "work", when I write stuff, people just want to pick it apart. Whine, whine, whine - it gets annoying after awhile and does nothing for my self esteem. Plus, I'm smarter than some of them and nicer than most. What the hell do they know, anyway?

2. It sure would be nice to be at home with my youngest until she graduates... In seven years. It takes a long time for writers to become successful, right? If I pace myself, Seven years would be the perfect goal for success. I'd just have to acquire REALLY good clock management skills. Perhaps I could write to Bill Belichick to ask for a plan. He's so accessible, I bet he'd do it. Anyway, studies show that kids handle the teenage years much better if there's a parent at home. Insanity may set in before it's all said and done but wouldn't that just make what I write more interesting? Open it up to a whole new target audience.

3. My dogs really appreciate it when I'm home. They like to sit with me all day long. I can talk to myself for eight hours straight and they don't bat an eye. Okay, that's not entirely true. There was the time I talked about finding a way to "T-R-E-A-T" myself to something and, before I realized what I was doing, they were in a frenzy at my feet. That aside, they love it when I'm around and, in turn, I appreciate their no-nonsense feedback (when solicited). Still waters run deep, trust me; except, that is, when the doorbell rings, someone's working on the house or (God forbid) a plastic bag gets rustled in the kitchen. My dogs can hear the crinkle of a mass marketed ziploc bag from anywhere in the house.

4. I love flannel pants but when I try to wear them to work, they're frowned upon. Apparently, while prints, plaids and stripes worked for Herb Tarlek in the 80's, they don't work for me. A little bit of a double standard, in my humble opinion, but rules are rules. Writers, I am assuming, get to wear what they want. Heck, as a writer, I could even work in my Birthday Suit if I wanted. It may precede an uncomfortable conversation with the dogs but they have yet to win an argument with me so what do I care?

5. There are SOOO many stories to be written; most of which are a by-product of work. I've already seen enough material in that arena to fill a couple of books but, for obvious reasons, I can't write any of it while I'm still working there. It's like being caught in a cruel Catch 22. Every time something 'blog worthy' happens, there's that moment of elation where I know I have an evil grin on my face but, once full realization comes, there's a tiny bit of sadness and the smile dies. Nobody's figured it out yet though, they just think I have a lot of gas. That having been said, someone's bound to figure it out sooner or later. Until then it's killing me, one supressed sarcastic line at a time.

6. Becoming a writer would have made my Mom happy. Now there was a woman who hated being part of the 'rat race'. She would pull 'all nighters', scheming and crunching numbers to figure out how soon she could retire. She was very clever and managed to retire at a relatively early age. Did she pass me this gene? This magic with money? No. Instead, she bequeathed to me flairs for producing kidney stones and for cooking. Anyway, if I became a writer and pulled myself out of the rat race at my age, she'd give two thumbs WAY up, I'm sure of it.




7. If I became a writer, I'd have a reasonable shot at meeting David Sedaris without looking like I'm stalking him. He's my comedic literary hero and I have a tiny 'celebrity crush' on him. The man has made me laugh out loud more times than I can count. If you've not heard of him, or haven't read any of his stuff, I'm begging you to read "Naked" or "Me Talk Pretty One Day". Particularly the latter if you actually speak French. The man's a dysfunctional genius.

8. College money. My husband and I have four girls to "help" put through College. They're each two years apart and the first one starts her post secondary education this fall. Assuming they all go, this means, for the next ten years, we will have at least one child in college. Do you have any idea how much money that is? I'll tell you: A LOT. If I'm a writer, I can't lose and here's why: If I'm unsuccessful, I'll have no money and we'll get all kinds of financial aid. In the other scenario (you know the one where I'm a N.Y. Times Bestselling author), I'm making enough money that paying for College is no longer a concern for any of our girls. Did I mention we have four?


9. Summers. I want summers off but know myself well enough to understand I'd be a complete failure as a teacher. First of all, I have the patience of a squirrel crossing the road in traffic. Ask me to explain something once and I'm all over it. Twice? I'm already taking deep breaths and willing the person to 'get it'. Three times? Certainly not a charm as my eyes roll and I start looking around for a backup or escape route. I'm pretty gracious about it though. I always say something like "I must not be using the right words" or "From the look on your face, I can tell I'm not explaining this right" as I snap my fingers in front of their eyes to see if anyone's home while simultaneously grabbing their wrist to check for a pulse. That's nice, right?

10. It's great to make people laugh but, in person, I'm just not that funny. In person, I always end up offending or (worse yet) confusing someone. Talk about a downer - you try to be witty and, in return, you just get a confused look or nervous giggle. That right there is a solid shot to the old ego. Given some time and a backspace key, however, I can sometimes actually make people laugh and, if I don't, my ego doesn't suffer because I can't see them being offended or confused. Everybody wins!!

Well, there it is. The Top Ten reasons I want to become a writer. Here's hoping you enjoyed it.