Hey at least if I was eaten by cats I'd do the cats some good.

I can still get the alone and eaten by cats fear even though I'm married and have a kid. I mean, I could easily be a widow, run through my savings, and have my kid(s) want nothing to do with me.

Both of my younger sisters have higher paying, more advanced jobs than I have. a couple of years ago I figured out somethings 1) I like predictable yet flexible schedule that I have. 2) I am good at what I do. 3) My job gives me room to do other things

The only way I know to get out of the stupid mental script game is to re write it.an I mean it - sit and write it out.

Start with why you have chosen to do what you do.

then go on to why anyone whould want someone to do your job.

and then go onto what you are good at that makes you suited for you job.

and literally rewrite the script.

Oooh, more EEEEVIL work, Drew?

I do not know if the future work will be evil, but the company that I'm subcontracted to (I'm actually two layers down from this company) does a lot of theme park work and other types of themed environment work and the person I met with today was very interested in my skill set. It's the nature of this business and the nature of freelance, work begets work.

I'm feeling a bit better. I figured out how to tackle the immediately pressing logistical issues. And I'm chatting to DH, who reminded me that I don't want to be a lawyer, a doctor, or an entrepreneur, and while I sometimes think wistfully that if I were 18 again, I'd major in history or anthropology and become a PhD, deep down I'd rather be an author than a professor. The problem is, I'm NOT an author yet. I'm just a writer. And I have no way of knowing when or if that'll ever change.

Clearly I need to get more cats if I want to aspire to the "alone and eaten by cats" thing....

Cats, crap! Looks like I'm not even on track to accomplish that?

deep down I'd rather be an author

I read this as "deep down I'd rather be an auror" and thought well yeah, who wouldn't?

My cat is whining at me. I don't know why. he won't stop. Even though I explained to him that I have this stupid nagging gone and back again headache he expects me to read his tiny half walnut brain.

The problem is, I'm NOT an author yet. I'm just a writer. And I have no way of knowing when or if that'll ever change.

"Just" a writer? That makes me think you don't value your talent the way you should. Now, I don't know if you actually feel this way, but "just"-ing something tends to read, to me, as diminishing it.

If you're never published -- and I know how much that makes your stomach sink -- you have to decide for yourself if your writing, the *act* of writing, is valuable to you.

If your definition of "author" is "published," then I have 2 words for you: Dan. Brown. ::shudder::

I'm a writer, and if my only chance of seeing print was to write like Dan Brown, I'd rather never have a word published. Ever.

And, FWIW, I know exactly what my problem is--instead of determining my self-worth through my own values and whether I'm doing what I most love to the best of my abilities, I'm looking to something beyond my control, namely the purchasing decisions of the publishing industry, and the social hierarchy of what's a prestige job for an intelligent and well-educated person to have. The problem is getting my gut to listen to my head on that one.