I’m still writing… so much for a career shift. LOL.
“You should be lucky you’re doing something you like,” a friend told me last night. I think I belong to that minority of people who do actually make a living out of something they like doing, but when you’re pushing 25, the quarter-life crisis leads you to believe that you can be doing something else. More than that, I think I belong to that minority of people who have finally found their calling.
The beginning of the rest of my life doesn’t have to end up with me at my mid-twenties, a date with destiny, and copy. Or fiction, or prose, whatever. There are lots of things I could still explore simply because I can. I don’t want to go to my 20th high school reunion and have this going on:
High school friend: Hi Marck! What are you up to? I’m running my own company, I have three kids, and I’m going to a cruise to Moldova.
Me: Hey! Errr… I’m writing, I’m on my second book, and I’m shortlisted for the Booker Prize this year. I don’t have a company, I don’t have kids, and I’ve just eaten all my manuscripts ‘coz I’m poor.
High school friend: That’s fantastic! What else are you up to?
Me: Fuck you, a pox upon your company, AIDS be upon your kids, and I hope you get raped at Moldova, bitch.
High school friend: Hey, that’s not very nice…
Me: I’LL SEE YOUR ASS IN HELL!
All apologies to the good people of Moldova.
