Send in the Clowns

The question of what I will be when I grow up has never been particularly difficult for me to answer.  Except for a few brief years where I thought I might become a doctor (before realizing that my fear of needles might make my job difficult), I have always wanted to be a writer.  The really difficult question for me has instead always been: How do I support my writing habit?  When I first told my mother of my career plans, she said to me, "That's great, honey,  - as long as you don't mind living in a cardboard box while trying to earn a living as a starving artist." After I asked her what size box I would get to have, she seemed a bit put out.  Apparently, I didn't find the looming specters of eminent poverty and cramped living space sufficiently threatening.

However, now that I am older, wiser, and more aware of the problem of money (It was a sad, sad day when I discovered that money truly does not grow on trees as I had always assumed.), I find that my mother's concerns are, well, concerning.  In order to ease my fears, I have put together this blog in which I will concoct madcap schemes that will save me from ending up cold, cramped, and unpublished living in a box.  And so, without further ado, scheme 1:

Run Away to Join the Circus

What better way to travel, meet interesting people, and eat all the cotton candy I want?  And, as an added bonus, the extensive traveling time would mean plenty of opportunities for writing.  Plus, room and board would be a part of my job's benefits.  I would get to live in a circus trailer or maybe even stay in cheap motels - sweet!

There are really only two downsides as far as I can tell: One, I have no circus talent, and two, the circus doesn't often pass through rural Alabama.  The way I see it there are a few ways around these problems.  For the first problem, I could always become a lion tamer.  Even though I have no experience with lions, or any cat larger than a calico, I do own a whip (don't ask), and I've seen The Lion King, a film which has instructed me in the complex habits and behaviors of lions.  For the second, while I have never seen or heard of a circus visiting my town, several small carnivals pass through the area. Now I realize that carnivals are much different than circuses and that to be a carny rather than a circus performer carries its own unique set of expectations.  However, I figure that carnivals and circuses must cross paths in some places.  If I can just hop on board with a carnival for awhile, I should soon end up in a bigger city, one that attracts cultural activities such as circuses.

So, for the meantime, I'll be digging out my whip and seeking out some carnies until I come up with a better plan to avoid becoming a Jess in a Box.