WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?

I’m sure you’ve heard the cliche that some people’s sole purpose on the planet is to serve as a warning to others. I’m pretty sure the latter reason is why I was invited to speak at a high school career day.

I was actually invited a few years ago to the same career day, but the powers that be sensed that having me talk to high school kids was probably not a good idea, and summoned a snowstorm, canceling career day. Apparently, said powers were napping on the job this year and allowed Career Day 2002 to happen.

I was asked to speak to students about what it’s like being a writer. I find this funny, because based on some of the comments I have received over the years, “writer” is not the first word some folks use to describe me. But I decided I would give it my best shot, and hopefully not lead any impressionable youths down too tawdry of a path.

As I was getting prepared to leave for career day, my wife came into the bedroom and gave me one of her disapproving looks, as if I had just coated myself with the fresh blood of our cat or something. “What?” I said.

“You’re wearing blue jeans?” she said. I explained to her that I was talking about writing, so I should wear what I normally wear when I write. But since I couldn’t show up in just my underwear, I decided to add pants and a shirt in the interest of not being in violation of several statutes. She replied, “Hmmm,” which basically meant, “You’re wrong. You’ll never understand why, but you are.”

After changing into slacks and a collared shirt, I headed off to school. There was a reception for all of the speakers, and when I entered, I saw a wide cross section of community business leaders, ranging from accountants to veterinarians. (There may have been professions that began with W, X, Y, or Z, but I can’t think of them off the top of my head. Maybe there was a zebra trainer, but I can’t say for certain.)

As I started looking around, I realized that I was already a step behind most of the other speakers. For one thing, most of them brought hand-outs. As I stated, I was fortunate to have pants, so having goodies for the kids was out of the question. And then there were some of the jobs that had really cool stuff to bring with them. There was a police officer with his bloodhounds. There was a biologist with his alligators. There was a TV news guy with his cameraman. And what did I have? A fresh coffee stain on my shirt that I received after almost walking into another speaker. Boy, the kids were going to be happy they picked my class!

When the time came to speak, we were all herded off to our respective classrooms. All the cool speakers were taking their cool toys to classes, while I walked alone to mine. As the class began to file in, something occurred to me: I had no idea what I was going to actually say to these kids. I hadn’t written anything down. After all, when I write things, I just sit down and let it flow. There are no rough drafts or planning involved. (Editor’s note: Gee? Really? All this on his first try? Who’d-a-thunk-it?)

I started going over various things I could tell to the students as they continued to file in. Before I could finish writing my speech in my head, I made a cardinal sin of high school visitors – I acknowledged one of the students who lives in my neighborhood. Right as I waved and said hi to him, I could see the look of sheer terror on his face as he obligatorily waved back, all the while thinking, “Why does this old dork have to know me of all people? Oh, please, let me be grabbed by aliens right this second.” It’s hard enough being in high school. It’s even tougher to have your parents’ dorky friends single you out in class.

Once everyone was in place, I decided that I was ready to start my talk. I would impart sage wisdom of writing and writers to them, and shape their young minds into the minds of future writers. I had my whole speech planned out in my head, a masterpiece I had concocted in under a minute’s time. The only part that was missing was a big opening line. Time was running short, and I would have to think of something on the fly. As the host teacher introduced me, I opened my mouth and let fly with this bit of wisdom: “Hi, I’m Mike. If you want to be a writer, get a day job first.”

There you go. Welcome to career day, go search for another career. I stand behind my message, which is that very few people get to magically be John Grisham. Most writers have to have actual jobs to pay the bills in the meantime. If you are blessed with both talent and luck, you may one day be able to call yourself a writer only. But don’t expect to write a short story and have someone start backing up dump trucks full of cash for you.

I managed to get through both classes I had been invited to for career day. I have to say that I think I did better on the second class, partly because I tweaked my opening message enough not to totally dash all hopes. I think I did OK, because the neighborhood kid who I know did come home and tell his folks about the session, and, according to his parents, didn’t even mention that I probably ruined his day by acknowledging him.

In all, I think the day went off pretty well. Despite a less than stellar start to the speech, I think I got my message across to the kids. That message – sometimes even writers have to wear pants.