Just an Ordinary Woman

I met a woman the other day who had read my books and after praising them generously, she went on to tell me that she could never write fiction because she was “just an ordinary woman.” She said more, but I got stranded back where she said she was “just an ordinary woman.” Well, let’s hear it for all the ordinary women who cook the meals and brush the dogs and – yes, it’s true — write the novels.

I was an English major in college at a time when writers occupied an elevated position in everyone’s opinion. We were expected to genuflect before the altars of Earnest Hemingway, Norman Mailer and – can you believe it? – D.H. Lawrence.

Being an author has brought those altars crashing down. I know, now, that authors are just like teachers and accountants and everyone else.

It’s Tuesday evening now and here’s the thrilling recap of my week so far. I’ve washed and folded a ton of laundry. Brushed the dogs and watered the garden. Postponed paying the bills, sorted tax stuff, loaded and emptied the dishwasher a couple of times. I’ve worked lots of good hours on my new book, done some business for San Diego Writers Ink and played Bookworm for a couple of hours in fifteen minute segments. This afternoon, I happily paid off the student loan we’ve been carrying like a load of bricks for ten plus years, driving all over town in the process, watching my gas gauge slip inexorably into the west. I’ve texted my daughter-in-law a bunch of times, watched some TV and gone to Pilates. On the way back, I picked up the weekly box of locally grown produce we share with our oldest son.

In short, my life is more or less like yours except for the book writing and student loan part which, I will admit, has made me a little giddy.

And now I fix dinner. Tonight it’s leftover chicken with noodles, which is about as day-to-day ordinary as you can get.

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One Response to “Just an Ordinary Woman”

  1. Art Campbell says:

    As your husband of 42 (volatile) years and a (recovering) lawyer, I object, yer honor! You are POSITIVELY extraordinary. Without listing all the OTHER ways you’re so uniquely special (I know that phrase comes from the Dept. of the Redundancy Dept.), I’ll simply rest my case by saying “You’re the answer to the questions I’ve been asking all my life.” Love ‘n’ hugs, Dahlink!