Writing for a Living

I write for a living. I am very proud of that. Back in the day, When people would tell me they were also a writer, my arrogance would cause me to say some self-aggrandizing nonsense like, "You are not a writer unless you cash checks at the bank with 'writing' noted on it. Like I do." What a ass. Part of that was youthful silliness, part of it sheer gratitude that I did get paid to write. Let's face this truth: Not all people get to do the thing they do best and get paid for it. I guess that's why I was/am so insecure. Imagine stringing words together that people really like and really pay you for? Giggle. Like getting paid for eating or watching TV or sitting in the library. I like to do those things and frankly, I do them well, but nobody is going to pay me to do them. I do expect to be paid to write. Which brings me to another new development. I have become the queen of barter, sort of. People are forever asking me to write something for them, just because I write for a living. Because I am a big softie, sometimes I do that. But more often these days, my conversations go something like, 'what have you got to trade me for writing something for you?' My Uncle Hawk must be laughing out loud at the whole Indian notion of this, but trading does work. I've gotten a massage, an oil change and condo for a weekend in Palm Spring. All good. Now if I can just keep anybody from trading me a small pox infected blanket, I'll be the bartering Ruth Adkins Robinson