It’s 12:37 AM and I’m wide awake. I just finished reading The Stand by Stephen King. This will not correlate to the above subject in any way except that it’s the reason I’m up at this unforgiving hour…and that extra cup of coffee this afternoon that I should have passed up. No, I just wanted to get that darn book over with. It is a very good and dark thriller that goes on and on and on for over a thousand pages and the library has sent me a notice that I need to giddyup and get it back.
As we all do after reading an intense book or watching an intense movie, we reflect on it for a few hours and, if it was a real thinker, we reflect for days. This was a good book, however, I found that I gave it a few minutes and then turned my thoughts to my own real life thriller drama. And that is the beginnings of buying our own house.
I have spent the last few days going through listings…and many mood swings. Yesterday I was wilted and long of face after seeing how much the prices have escalated and thought of what we have to offer (not much). I became silent on the drive to my son’s karate class and my husband tried to comfort me. He gets very nervous when I get quiet as that is unheard of in our house (pun intended). Then today I woke up feeling powerful and mighty! I was making list and checking them off as I crashed through the jungle of task with my machete! I was ready to conquer! I looked at the listings with a new perspective, one of curiosity and enjoyment. I like looking into the houses and seeing different designs, kitchen ideas, yards that my mind loves to recreate. I met with a new realtor and talked with a new lender and there was hope by the end of the night.
As a writer, we dream of success. We may love writing to write, yes, but the truth is that we are driven by the idea that we may one day have a book on some list as a #1 novel. We hope to make enough money to live comfortably and take luxury cruises and live in neighborhoods without graffiti. We want people to come up to us in a cafe one day and say, “Oh my God! Aren’t you that amazing author that wrote that great love story?” We see ourselves blushing and putting our hand coily to our chest in humble surprise at our new fame. We dream of the publishers calling us and making deals, wining and dining us. I’m sure none of it goes that way but these are fantasies. I dream of them sending a driver in a sleek black car to my humble shack to pick me up for the “big meeting” with a director to make my book into a movie. I just want to be a part of the film life. Being a writer is lonely. I need a community.
Ah, but those are dreams and some may be fulfilled one day and maybe none of them will ever. But as my books become more popular and as my skills at writing fiction are starting to get a decent rating here and there…I dream.
Then tonight I really thought about it. I pondered what it was I really wanted. A new washer, that’s for sure. But what about the luxury mansion? Not really. I sat in the lobby of the real estate office tonight and looked through the magazines of million dollar properties. I am a true believer in the Laws of the Universe and that we create our world so I thought I’d simmer in photos of luxurious homes to stimulate my third eye in manifesting a miracle. But as I looked at these fabulous homes I found that not a one of them moved me. I wouldn’t want to live in any one of those oversized bungalows. I couldn’t clean it. That would take days just to get through two rooms. I would have a maid of course…but do I want a maid full time? I love cleaning my own home. It’s my therapy sometimes. I listen to seminars on YouTube and talk to myself, work through issues, think up new plots. Yes, I would like to have a maid on hand for when I am fried on cleaning and really want to focus on a writing streak. No, I don’t want a house that requires a staff.
And if I became rich I would miss the library and all my worn library books. I would miss folding my laundry some afternoons while watching something inappropriate like Tosh.O and drinking that afternoon coffee I shouldn’t because it leads to this. I wouldn’t miss the graffiti on my neighbor’s fence…or would I?
I live a simple and frugal life with my sweet little family. We reside in a tiny cottage. I have a menagerie of pets I’ve rescued. I love looking through the coupons I get in the mail with all the junk mail. I love finding deals and writing silly books on homemaking. My life is so easy and sweet.
That could all change over time. Am I ready for that? I think people focus so much on the prize and then one day they sit in their huge house and miss the old days when life was simple. The days when they knew their neighbors and life was easy. Those sweet beginnings in the tiny apartment counting coins for the laundromat. It is a struggle at the time but there is something so real and raw about it.
We think of success and all we will gain but what about what we may loose? How far do you want to go? Is there a way to succeed and keep some of the old life? Ah well, my ship has yet to come in and we are talking small, tiny beginnings. I just know how often the grass is often greener on the other side and then you get to the other side and realize that there is a lot of work involved in so much green grass.
I get tired of being on a tight budget. I get tired of cleaning and cooking and saving pennies. But I don’t want to rush things after all. My life is sweet, my sons are small and adorable and pure still. It’s the journey that is so fun. The little increments of success that are so delicious and to be savored.
Enjoy the journey, I say to myself.