Promotion, Perverts and Perspectives on Writing

So, late last night I heard informally that I will get the visa I need to take up a great job I have been offered. It is a reasonably influential position, right in my specialty and pays more than twice my current salary even after taking into account the Chicago cost-of-living. The only down side, if you could call it that, is that a high powered job is likely to cut into my writing time. I was angsting a little about that because it seemed not impossible that I would effectively give up writing entirely. The dollar-to-drama ratio with some epresses is becoming exasperating and there are only so many hours in a day.

So, somewhat later last night I watched two episodes of Highlander on DVD, took out the trash, walked the dog and went into my bedroom. I pulled down the blinds and then heard a tap on my window. The bathroom light was on and it was dark outside so I lifted the blind and leaned my hand against the window to look out. Lo and behold a large blond man is masturbating a few inches away just on the other side of the window. I would like to say I shouted something sarcastic and set the dog on him, but actually I hid in the kitchen and called 911.

I finished describing the guy and was waiting in the dark and my very next thought was: this is an interesting life experience, I wonder how I can use it in a story? Which made me realise that at this point in my life I really can't just stop writing. By the time a rather nice looking uniformed policeman arrived I was already taking notes of his dialogue and mannerisms for use in my next novella. I have never been much for the great 'writer artiste' identity where writing is all about tapping some deep well spring of creativity that would otherwise drive one insane.

I would have to concede, however, that writing has become part of how I see the world, process my experiences and communicate them. One way or another I suspect I will find some time to keep writing.