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Dec. 13th, 2007
i think i just got my feelings hurt
Dec. 13th, 2007 06:43 pmor, A Lesson in Humility
So our neighbor is a professional artist. That is how he supports his wife and his six children, and he supports them well. (They drive nicer cars than we do, for crying out loud. Okay, so we specifically drive our cars into the ground before purchasing new ones, but still...) He does illustrations for books, magazines (religious ones, mainly -- he tends to do monthly illustrations for them), and teaches at a local university. And he is a fine artist. Excellent. Truly.
So he was talking to Rice, my husband, the other night about a book he has an idea for and is ready to do the illustrations. The only problem is he needs a writer to do the writing part. So my husbands begins with, "My wife is a writer..." only because if nothing else I may know a writer who is interested in helping, and the guy completely shut down and gave my husband the, "Oh, she writes Christmas cards, or really bad poetry, or talks about writing," effect. You know what I'm talking about.
Now, of course, usually writers want to write their own stories and let other people write their own stories, but after understanding the situation in more detail than I have given here and knowing the artist and the places I'd send him, I know this is a good possibility he could make a match. And the sad thing is, first of all, I have strong suggestions for where he can start looking. One option is even a professor at the university where he teaches, right here in SE Idaho, who already writes and publishes the sort of book he's discussing. I know a local regional mailing list where stuff like this occurs. If nothing else, I would be happy to not necessarily write it, I'm not sure I write this sort of thing, but to give suggestions for him to start writing it himself.
But I'm a stay-at-home mom/housewife who couldn't possibly be the sort of person who writes halfway decent fiction. (Though I am striving to be.)
But as Rice said, his loss.
Though I don't truly feel that way.
I was excited to live near a creative person. I hoped that, though we're both introverts, we'd eventually be able to have some discussions about the creative act.
I suspect, if we live here long enough, the topic of my writing will eventually come up, but in the meantime. Well, soon I'll have forgotten it and not feel bad about it at all. This is how I strive to live.
Maybe I should send him the bear sex story from Say... ;) (You know, the one that offends people.)
So our neighbor is a professional artist. That is how he supports his wife and his six children, and he supports them well. (They drive nicer cars than we do, for crying out loud. Okay, so we specifically drive our cars into the ground before purchasing new ones, but still...) He does illustrations for books, magazines (religious ones, mainly -- he tends to do monthly illustrations for them), and teaches at a local university. And he is a fine artist. Excellent. Truly.
So he was talking to Rice, my husband, the other night about a book he has an idea for and is ready to do the illustrations. The only problem is he needs a writer to do the writing part. So my husbands begins with, "My wife is a writer..." only because if nothing else I may know a writer who is interested in helping, and the guy completely shut down and gave my husband the, "Oh, she writes Christmas cards, or really bad poetry, or talks about writing," effect. You know what I'm talking about.
Now, of course, usually writers want to write their own stories and let other people write their own stories, but after understanding the situation in more detail than I have given here and knowing the artist and the places I'd send him, I know this is a good possibility he could make a match. And the sad thing is, first of all, I have strong suggestions for where he can start looking. One option is even a professor at the university where he teaches, right here in SE Idaho, who already writes and publishes the sort of book he's discussing. I know a local regional mailing list where stuff like this occurs. If nothing else, I would be happy to not necessarily write it, I'm not sure I write this sort of thing, but to give suggestions for him to start writing it himself.
But I'm a stay-at-home mom/housewife who couldn't possibly be the sort of person who writes halfway decent fiction. (Though I am striving to be.)
But as Rice said, his loss.
Though I don't truly feel that way.
I was excited to live near a creative person. I hoped that, though we're both introverts, we'd eventually be able to have some discussions about the creative act.
I suspect, if we live here long enough, the topic of my writing will eventually come up, but in the meantime. Well, soon I'll have forgotten it and not feel bad about it at all. This is how I strive to live.
Maybe I should send him the bear sex story from Say... ;) (You know, the one that offends people.)