The other day at Company X, if Boss Lady wasn’t walking past my desk shell-shocked over a surprise 25th Company X anniversary party (she walked into the conference convinced she was getting laid off vs a lovely cake), she would have seen me open-mouthed at my computer. Okay, so maybe that isn’t such a rare occurrence. The day I discovered NAME REDACTED FAMOUS FILM DIRECTOR was a Company X named insured I was pretty slack jawed.

However on this particular day I was spending lunch time like I spend every lunch time. Scooping some Crock Pot/baking pan horror/recipe that would make Sandra (Semi-Homemade) Lee gag into my maw while scanning the interwebs. I noticed the horrid state of my favorite ballet flats and was checking eBay for replacements (of course I love a shoe that hasn’t been made in ages). The only pairs available were too big. The Universe and shoes and me? So evil and so difficult. No shoes for me. I did my daily check to see the current price for the Lovecraft/Wandrei letters and cursed myself for not buying them from the nice Night Shade Books man at the NecronomiCon Providence. But also glad I didn’t because of the very expensive repairs to Blacklight’s car earlier in the week. Then for ha-ha’s and because I needed a good laugh after realizing that overtime was a must even though I cherish my Saturdays, I typed in “wannabe” in Mr Search Bar.

Try it. There are many results. You don’t realized how many people have written funny and quirky memoirs with “Wannabe” somewhere in the title. I recommend Jerramy Fine’s Someday My Prince Will Come: True Adventures of a Wannabe Princess. Or how-to guides. Or a NYX comic you know Blacklight has stashed away in one of the massively heavy comic coffins shoved in the bedroom closet. And then…choke a tiny bit on your homemade using a proper recipe chocolate chunk scone because the ones at the Company X cafeteria are too expensive for your broke rump roast, your book…

The thing you slaved over, ordered and gave to the local public libraries and then flat out avoided going to those libraries yearly book sales because it would break your heart to see it unwanted and passed over on bag sale day. The book you mention as your go to for those endless “tell the group something we don’t know about you” because you don’t want to reveal anything too sad or deep or personal. “I wrote a book” works. The book that sometimes generates a royalty check that makes you squint at the envelope, sigh and open wondering which creditor this is and how much over how much time can you pay this debt and then almost faint when you realize its a check for you.

Then you instant message one of your work buddies. One of the ones who knows things about you. The one you can commiserate with over sick husbands, Medicare, too many bills, etc.  and send her the link. She would love to have a check, however small. magically appear in the mail. She wants to know more.And get a small kick and shot of pride that she’s impressed. Because most days you don’t feel awesome or impressive. You know you could call yourself a writer, you have a book but you don’t. But this afternoon, you aren’t just the person cranking out X from the XYZ drawer. You’re not just Coworker 123’s least favorite person. You are the writer and the world just has to type one little word to find your book.