Being an author isn’t as easy as people might think.  For those of us who aren’t successful enough to make writing their full-time EDJ (evil day job) it’s even more difficult.  Now add in family and outside obligations and sometimes I’m amazed I can find the time to write at all.

Because I’m what you might call a mid-level author (and really I may not even be that) my works don’t sell well enough for me to reap the rewards of great royalties.  So I work a EDJ as an Administrative Assistant in a construction company for 37.5 hours a week.   I’m lucky in that I have some great bosses who allow me to use my work computer to promote and post on my blog during the day (so long as I’m also promoting our company too).  But its not like I can write while I’m at work.

A few months ago I finally reached a point in my life where I accepted my place in the writing hierarchy and resolve that I would always require an EDJ to meet my financial means.  I was pretty happy with this acceptance as it lifted an invisible weight off my shoulders.  However, events in the last few days have risen that reminded me of why I started writing to begin with.

Besides the love of telling a story and creating art through words, there was that lure of having the income I desperately needed to sustain my family, while still being able to be home for them.  That’s what I’d been striving for and failed to achieve.   As my kiddo’s grew and needed me less and less that pressure of needing to be home with them also became less.

Then last week I received a call from the school nurse telling me I needed to take my daughter to the doctor.  She had a rash the nurse couldn’t identify.  Well it turns out she also had a fever and the doctor was concerned enough to send us for blood work.  Abnormally low white cells showed up in her blood work and now the watch is on to see if this is virus related or something more sinister.

She’s always been a very healthy child and was 9 days away from her 3rd year of perfect attendance at school when this issue cropped up.  She’s heartbroken at failing to achieve her goal for a third year in a row.  I’m sad for her, but more concerned about her health.  When the fever returned this weekend (with no other symptoms except tiredness) I grew worried once again.  Could this still be a virus?  I kept her home from school and was, for the first time  four years, reminded of why I’d wanted to become a successful author.

I felt guilty for missing work, but I would have felt guiltier for leaving her home with a sitter or worse yet, sending her to school sick.  I hate carrying around that feeling of guilt, especially when it comes to that time old battle between work and family.  Besides the lack of pay (if I don’t work I don’t get paid) there’s the knowledge that people are relying on me and I’ve failed them because I’m not there.

However, on the flip side I would have failed my daughter if I had passed her off to a sitter or sent her to school.  I absolutely refuse to fail my child on purpose.  So I live with the lesser guilt of the two and stay home.  We watched TV together and I made her lunch, gave her medicine and wrote while she slept.  All the while I kept thinking that if I’d just been as successful as I’d originally aimed to be I wouldn’t be carrying around any guilt at all.

So just when I thought I had everything figured out I’m once again unsure.  Do I continue on being the mid-list author without weighing myself down with the worries of trying to succeed, or do I allow that pressure to once again consume me?  No matter what choice I’m not sure I’ll be happy.  The only way I know I’d be truly happy is if I was already there, making the salary of writing to support my family and staying at home with my kiddos in the process.  Until I reach that point I’ll never truly be happy, but is the stress of trying to reach that elusive brass ring and the unhappiness and frustration that comes with it worth the reward?  I knew I wouldn’t be an overnight success, but I have author friends who are.  So what am I doing wrong?  I’ve been at this writing gig for 10 years now and still don’t have the level of success I wanted.  What if I don’t ever make it? Then what?