I had this whole other blog planned for you but instead want to share this important public service announcement:
Dating as a writer is hard as fuck.
Being the only single Deb in our 2017 class, I have to say I envy my fellow ladies. Having husbands, kids, and built in support systems ahead of their books coming out must be so relieving. To be able to write without the additional responsibility of partnering and procreating. To focus on stories instead of Tinder or Bagel and Coffee. To have someone to snot cry on when people are being mean on Goodreads.
But trying to date WHILE debuting a book has been challenging. Some days I’m just too tired to talk or text comprehensible sentences. I have zero time to go to a bar or party to meet anyone. Then, there’s the added fun part of trying to find someone who actually respects what I do.
“Oh, you’re a writer? Oh, self-publishing must be really hard. Probably don’t make a lot of money. What else do you do to keep a roof over your head?”
This is a real quote. From a real date. I shit you not.
I’m not lonely or depressed about it. I shouldn’t even be worried about this when I have a BILLION things to do before ALLEGEDLY comes out in two weeks. I have a GREAT life! I have family and friends who love me. But I would love to share this life with someone.
It’s a strange type of envy, as people often say to me, “Oh I wish I could write a book! I wish I could travel.” Meanwhile, I’d give up the book and trips for a family.
Ok…ending my sappy blog post now.