I consider myself a writer, not because I do it for a living at this point, but because it is my passion.
As of yet I have not sold anything, and have in fact I have been actually working on the same epic novel for a couple of years, but I know that in my heart I am a writer.
For a living, I sell postcards at a tiny shop down on the local boardwalk, which is, as you may have guessed, a simply bad job. It’s cramped and boring to work there, with low pay and no benefits, on the other hand it is simple, giving myself and others so much ample time to write, and I meet the most interesting people. It’s only about twelve by twelve in that space, so we aren’t sizable enough of a structure to support a real working central Heating as well as A/C system. Instead we have one lone A/C unit, the old, square metal box that you usually see attached to window sills; We don’t even have a strong enough window sill to support it, so the A/C unit just sits on a bar stool near one of the small windows, and that seems to task well enough. Of course, I arena small my own stool in between the cash register and the air conditioner, and do my absolute best to not transport much through my shift. We sell tons of candy, popcorn, sodas, and a lot of postcards, even though I only do restocking in the evening when the heat of the summer day is cooling off.