No, I haven't suddenly embraced the dark side. I haven't made some crazy life changing decision that will horrify and embarrass my family. And I haven't taken up new hobbies that I can't post about on Facebook or Twitter. No, those are definitely things I haven't done.  

What I did do? I brought up the topic during a tense discussion at home. I suggested there was a way I could "earn my keep" since being a writer isn't the most profitable profession at the moment. But I certainly didn't think I'd actually deliver on this thinly veiled threat.

The truth of the matter is I'm tired of feeling like an unequal partner. I'm tired of feeling like I don't contribute equally to the household. There just doesn't seem to be anything I can do to rectify the situation when you compare apples to apples, or dollars to dollars as the case may be. I'm doomed to an eternity with the words "starving artist" tattooed to my forehead.

The problem is, people are forever making the assumption that being a published author means you're rolling in royalties, but the truth is usually quite the opposite. Having a few books under your belt doesn't always add up to much of anything in the grand scheme of things. Certainly not enough to compete with some of the other fields out there. Oh sure, I have high hopes...but that's all they are right now. Hopes. Dreams. Delusions of grandeur.

In the end, I still don't measure up to the requisite expectations. And maybe I never will. And maybe I'm ok with that. Maybe it's not all about the money. Just maybe seeing your name printed across the bottom of a book, and seeing that book get amazing reviews is compensation enough.

Until the next time...I'll be writing.