I was catching up on some of the blogs that I read when I came upon this nugget.
“That’s the thing: some people just won’t believe me when I try to tell them how ordinary I am. It’s true in real life AND in blog life. I’m shockingly ordinary.”
Talk about ordinary, yesterday I posted a photo of my commute, and because it’s hard enough to come up with one idea for social media, let alone two, I posted the same photo on facebook where a woman that I have not seen since high school remarked about the interesting places I seem to visit. So I explained that it was a photo of my daily commute, adding, by way of explanation “My virtual life is much more interesting than the real one.”
She knew me in high school. I shouldn’t need to explain that. She shouldn’t be fooled by the virtual excitement. None of you should. Except, of course, that I write fiction. I get paid (poorly) to make things sound more interesting than they really are.
Which reminds me that I just did my taxes. Indeed, I get paid very poorly to make things sound more interesting than they really are. Even now, with a fourth book scheduled to be released in January, I worry sometimes that the IRS will look at my earnings and will decide that writing is really just a hobby. At which point, I will show them the books and the publishing contracts, and after we’ve all had a really good laugh, I’ll explain that just because writing is a business doesn’t mean it’s a good business and then we’ll look at my royalty checks and we’ll all laugh just a little bit more.
It’s all good clean fun until someone finds the dead IRS agent (fictionally dead, my attorney advises me to remind you. Only and always, fictionally dead).