It finally happened to me. It's happened to a lot of other writers I know. It comes from well-meaning family members. And some not-so-well-meaning ones. It comes from strangers and from friends.
In my case, it came my sister-in-law Sandy. And this time, I have no problem naming names.
Her mother, my mother-in-law, fell at home last December. No broken bones, thank Goddess, but any time an elderly person falls, weird shit happens. As a result, MIL has been in an assisted living facility while she recovers.
We had a family meeting with the head nurse and the social worker to go over future care when MIL transferred from the rehab section to an apartment. DH insisted I come because I catch things he doesn't.
The head nurse reviewed MIL's upcoming doctors' appointments outside of their facility. Sandy looks at me and says, "You can handle those since you don't have a job."
I coolly replied, "No, I have a business to run."
Now, mind you, I was the one staying with HER MOTHER in the ER and the following week of hospitalization. And I did a lot of other stuff I won't get into here.
Frankly, I'm not sure what I'm more pissed about, Sandy's dismissal of my time being less important than hers (she's a fucking secretary, by the way) or the general attitude of everyone in the U.S. that anyone in the arts should be trampled on.
No one's resources are more or less important than yours. If you're going to demand something from somebody, don't start off by treating them like shit.
Novel Three: Day Seven
2 hours ago