Even if I didn’t decide that I was a writer by the time I was nine years old, the decision would have come a mere 7 years later at age 16, when Sex and the City stormed into the world and into my life. I am fully aware of how cliche I am sounding right now but care not.
Most average female writers’ dream, Carrie’s amazing fictional life gave us all hope that there is more than just a 9 to 5, that you can write whatever pops into your head, people will pay you for it and you will be able to buy lots of shoes. Realistic? Who cares! I want it!
Every time I’m on a downer I just pop in a SATC DVD. It never fails to lift my spirits and also motivates me to write. Even though it is unclear whether I will ever be able to quit the rat race even if I do complete my book and manage to get it published, the sight of a kempt, happy woman in her thirties, writing for a living and living the un-corporate life of her dreams consisting of shopping, writing, lunching with friends and gallivanting around the streets of New York, gets me going.
Sigh… Off to work…
