I spent just as much time making these bad boys in class as I did listening to the teacher. And I wasn’t the only one. Everywhere I looked there were fortune tellers folding and flapping, giving everyone in the third grade a clue into their futures.
I wonder what I would be like today if a single one of those fortunes had come true. I’d probably live in a big mansion with a husband named Billy or Bobby, always a B name, and I’d have four blond-haired children with sparkling blue eyes.
I’d probably be a doctor or a lawyer. I probably wouldn’t have to pay any bills because I’d be so rich I’d have someone to do that for me. I’d be like Richy Rich, kid turned millionaire.
But that’s not the way my life turned out. I know, it’s shocking isn’t it, finding out that I’m not filthy rich and happily married?
The reality is that I work. When I get home I write. And then when I have time I take care of the basic necessities of life. I see my friends when I can and pay my bills when I have to. The truth is I’m a real person with real responsibilities, ones that not even paper fortune tellers could rule out.
And yet there’s something so invigorating about the uncertainty of life. Knowing what’s going to happen to you is like knowing the end of a book before you’ve read it through, and after you’ve invested in the characters.
It’s never been guaranteed to me that I will get published, or write a best-seller, or ride the fame wave. None of that is fact, none of that is promised. And yet, I come home every day, open my laptop and keep writing, because even though it’s not promised, I know that it will happen, whether I’m 24 or 50, whether it’s my first book or my tenth.