Possessed By The Writing Demon

This was actually a reply to a statement made by a friend that once I earned the godforsaken nursing degree that I don't really want I can write for the love of writing rather than to make money. While this would work for someone who is sane, it doesn't work for the certifiably insane. And that would be--my evil twin, of course!

That being said, here is my explanation of what my amazing hack-titude at writing means to me.

I don't write as a means to earn a living. I do it because I'm possessed. Not by him (my spectral co-author)--I've just always had this need to do it. I don't really expect to ever make any money doing it. But like Bierce, Lovecraft and Poe before me, I do it because it has taken hold of my soul.
I've always had a love-hate relationship with writing. It's like one of those pathological romances that is both destructive and as essential as breathing. I sometimes hate that I HAVE to do it or I start becoming insanely depressed. But I love creating the alternative realities.
I can't put off writing while earning this godforsaken nursing degree, which I would jump ship from in a heartbeat if anything else I'm working on starts making money for me! The fact of the matter is that I do NOT have any desire to be a nurse. It doesn't speak to my soul. It's just a damn job. Which means I'll be a half-assed nurse, just like I'm a half-assed medical technician. But I've been stuck in the medical field for so long that I'm too old to do anything else unless one of these online projects takes off.
In the meantime, I will strive to make my place on the list of great weird fiction writers. I can't actually ever hold a candle to those who went before, but I hope that someday someone will read what I've written and say "hell yeah! I want to write like Bierce, Lovecraft, Poe and STRANGE!" Then I'll have succeeded.

Care for a slice of Prome Rib?

I'm always griping about the grammatical errors of the activities department here at the Gerri Atrik retirement community, but as I was about to update the date on this menu, which was typed out and proofread by none other than someone who looks very much like me but couldn't be me because I would never be this stupid, I noticed that the chow du jour was:

Roast Turkey With Gravy

Prome Rib Au Jus

Surely I was possessed by a very stupid demon when I allowed this particular typo to get by! Either that or there really is something called Prome Rib which is reserved for the elite of society and is so uppah-uppah crust that we peons don't even know of its existence!

Lying To Myself

What a horrible feeling, having actually written a book but coming to the distressing realization that so many people write far better than me. I realized after the book was published that what I write is actually pulp trash, and while I enjoy pulp trash, it's kind of a come down to realize that I'm not truly a good writer.
It's too bad I have no other skills or interests. I once wanted to be a psychotherapist but I didn't think that crazy people could do that, and I'm too old now.
It sucks knowing that in truth I have nothing of interest to say and my writing will never make the difference that I wished it would.
It sucks realizing that I am worthless.

The puzzle that is me

You Are a Crossword Puzzle

You are well read, and you have a good head for remembering facts. You are a wordsmith. You have a way with words, and you're very literate. You are a mysterious person who enjoys dropping little clues every now and then.

What Kind of Puzzle Are You?

It's all true!

My Mind Is Blue

Your Mind is Blue

Of all the mind types, yours is the most mellow. You tend to be in a meditative state most of the time. You don't try to think away your troubles. Your thoughts are realistic, fresh, and honest. You truly see things as how they are. You tend to spend a lot of time thinking about your friends, your surroundings, and your life.

What Color Is Your Mind?

I don't think I'm in a meditative state so much as I'm trying to escape from reality! I've always been a daydreamer. And a nightmarer.