I woke the other morning in a blue mood and thinking to myself, I have not a pot to piss in (this was after a brutal battle of late-night airfare shopping for which I had precious little to show–whoa, is me). But then, ever the history buff, my next thought was; where did that little pearl come from, anyway? Who are these historical pot-pissers we have surely all heard about? So, being, well, me, I researched. More on that later…
Back to the airfare shopping, I needed to book a flight to Southern California next week to collect a writing award. From there, I will be flying to Tampa for another spine surgery (it will be my 12th). Let me tell you, these spine-whittling sessions are expensive and for me, they are also across the country. So, there I was, awake in my bed and feeling a bit stressed. I knew I needed to make some money and fast.
If you know me, you know I am not motivated by money, and I am not consumed by a goal of selling a chamber pot statuemillion books on Amazon.com. Oh, who (technically, ‘whom’) am I kidding? I would love to sell a million books 
on Amazon. But, it is true that money never motivated me to write the first line of my first novel, which has bettered my life forever (Glenn Beck gets credit for that). Still, 12 back surgeries (and my back isn’t my only problem) even with good insurance, means the savings account is no more. Credit Cards? Oh, those are maxed out. But so what? So what if I don’t make any money at this authoring profession? The art/hobby/craft has been invaluable, no, a Blessing. For one thing, God knows when I write, I don’t hurt; I don’t even think of pain. For another thing, when I write I forget all the stress in my life—no time for that, I’m totally in the story! But the very best thing about this writing gig, is that it gives me one more reason to face each morning with renewed optimism, and what an awesome reason it is: I may not have much but I can write, and I write for you. That is my job. Right now it pays bupkiss in terms of financial wealth but it is not without benefits; namely, I get to write for your enjoyment and entertainment. It must be the best job ever. Sure, eventually the writing will need to actually pay some bills—sooner rather than later would be good (she raises her eyebrows hopefully), but in the meantime, I get to write for you. And that truly is a pleasure worthy of getting me out of bed in the morning. Now, about those pot-pissers of yore…
Back in the day of Fiefdoms (and no indoor plumbing), society was comprised of classes: the very rich, and three kinds of poor. First, there were the folks who were poor to the point they had to empty their own bedpans out of a window. Then there were families so poor they could not afford to throw their urine away. Instead, it was collected in a pot. Back in the olden days, animal skins used to be tanned using urine. So, the short straw would take the pot of pee to town and sell it to the tanner. If you had to do this to survive, you were considered ‘piss-poor’.
Lastly, there were those truly unfortunates who had neither the pot to piss in, nor the window to throw it out of—now, that’s poor…but that’s not me. I actually did afford my airline tickets, somehow, and by the skin of my teeth I am going to the AWP Convention in Los Angeles to collect my silver medal. Then I am on to Tampa for the surgery. I have to say, in all honesty, I am not the least bit blue anymore. I did take a few minutes to feel sorry for myself but I am over it now, because I realized that while I may be poor, the good Lord has seen to it I have everything I need right now, I still get to write, and one of these days the cash register will ring!
In the meantime, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you all, my family, friends and fans, and to let you know that writing for you truly is my pleasure.
