Today’s Daily Prompt: What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to? What would have to happen to make you comfortable taking it?
I have made a habit of risk taking in recent years, but what I’m about to do may be among the riskiest. A lot of you have heard that if we sell our house that we are getting the hell outta this town where I’ve spent the better part of my life. WooHoo and yay for us and all that good fun stuff and junk….BUT….That will leave me as one jobless Diva.
A new house in a new town. The prospect is very exciting, however, that really means a finding a new job. I would love nothing more than to leave the 9-5 world behind and pursue my dream of being a writer. I’ve been doing a great deal of research about this the last few months; and while I think I may have the mad skillz to pull it off, it would take a financial miracle for me to follow that dream and continue to live the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed.
My shiny new
buzzkill husband is wildly loving and supportive, but his salary alone isn’t enough to support my lavish tendencies. The dresses, furs, turbans, sunglasses and fancy parties stretch my dear husband’s salary to the limit. When I was a beloved movie star, this wasn’t a problem. But, we all get older, and we can’t all be Meryl Streep. My looks have faded, and so, I’ve decided that writing is my only option, as acting wasn’t really my strong suit to begin with.
So, unless Mr. The Cheeky wins the lottery, or I get an incredibly lucky break immediately, my writing career will be cut off at the knees before it even gets started. That would be a shame. All of my devoted readers know I have so much to say. My brain is chock full of garbage that the world needs to know! Right?…….Hello?
Mr The Cheeky and I have decided that if things go well, I will have a little time to try freelancing before I start to pound the pavement. If that doesn’t work out, then I guess we’ll do what we used to do together. He’ll help me memorize my lines.
I think I’ll kick off my career by writing the story of my fabulous and cheeky life. I can take lunches and meetings with all of my old contacts. I’m sure the finest directors will fight over my screenplay.
Crap! Who needs that guy? He doesn’t know what the people want. They love me I tell you! Let’s hold a press conference. That should draw some attention. The masses will clamor to have my story turned into a major motion picture!
Okay fine. My public has forgotten me. Whatever. That’s not going to stop me. I still have the support of my loving husband. Maybe he’ll just have to get a second job.
He’s such a dear. He protects me from the cruel world and all of the people who want to hurt me and see me fail.
Oh my gosh, hold the phone! This is too good to be true! Mr. The Cheeky hooked me up with a new agent!
Now Mr. The Cheeky really will be helping me to learn my lines again, just like the old days. No starvation, I won’t have to hawk my tawdry story to the highest bidder, and I won’t have to get a job that’s beneath a diva of my caliber.
The costumes are dreadful, and the set smells like hot grease, but it must be a television show, because it’s an on-going gig, which will be wonderful for the budget-that pool needs some maintenance-so I couldn’t be more thrilled.