Plan B

Here's the thing: I really want to be a writer. When it all boils down to it, I don't care if it's writing for SNL or writing a book that no one ever reads and eventually uses exclusively as a door stop, I just want to write. I hope someone somewhere has a pleasant experience reading what I write, but even if they don't, I'll be doing this way past the point of the world begging me to stop.

That being said, the road to success is paved with speed bumps, dead ends, and being pulled over for speeding around every corner. In my short life as a blogger I've discovered that I either have too much experience for a project or, more likely, too little experience for a bigger, better project and it's usually the latter that I really want to do (which is why I'm currently seething in jealousy as James Franco gets to write blogs for the Huffington Post. Come on, dude! You already have a job!). Coupled with my paper-thin self-esteem and tendency to feel sorry for myself at the drop of a hat, I've come to realize that all this "paying my dues" business really, really sucks. The rejection alone is enough to drive a sane person insane and reduce a person who already dabbles in insanity into a shaking, obsessive-compulsive mess. I am determined to overcome the rejection (I mean hey, if I can overcome being rejected by 90% of the guys in my high school, I can certainly overcome this) but in the meantime, I'm a firm believer in remaining proactive. And to me, proactive means a back-up plan.

But now this issue is, what to do with an English degree if you're not writing? The logical choice would be to fall back on the good old theory that those who cannot do teach. But what about those of us who aren't logical, but instead remain illogical, delusional, or just plain crazy? What are our options? I've spent a lot of time pondering this and like most reasonable solutions to career problems, mine came to me in a dream.

As much as I love to write, I love to read and I've always believed that those loves go hand-in-hand. Reading has made me a better writer and I've been inspired by Augusten Burroughs, Wally Lamb, Jennifer Weiner and everyone in between. There's nothing I love more than curling up in a comfortable chair with a good book and a glass of wine, which has to be why my subconscious gently nudged me to a solution so simple, I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. 

I had a dream that I opened up a combination library and bar. If it sounds like a really sexy idea to you, please feel free to take a second to pump the brakes. The image in my mind is more "sitting in worn leather chairs discussing the merits of Joyce Carol Oates over tumblers of whiskey" and less "frat boys doing shots of vodka out of some drunk girl's belly button". The servers would be actual librarians who could tell you which wine would pair well with the book you're reading. And because I don't want it to come across as too pretentious and there's nothing I love more in the world that a good pun, my library bar would have an awesome pun-tastic name. In my dream I couldn't decide between "Tequila Mockingbird" and "Girls Gone Oscar Wilde", but I think either way I have a winner. It will be both sophisticated and fun, a place where book nerds like me can unite with fellow book nerds and have a good time. It will be like one giant, fun book club meeting. It will be legandary.

Okay, so maybe it's not the most practical plan b but at this particular moment in my life, funding and operating something that doesn't even exist anywhere sounds a hell of a lot easier than becoming a published writer, and more fun too.

By the way, subscribers to this blog will drink free. And James Franco is not invited.