A simple life.

Books seem to be a big part of it.

(Want to hear me read this aloud to you? Press play and your wish is granted.)

I wanted to be the sort of person who lived a simple life. One who lived in a studio apartment with colorful walls, a cat (or two), a small bookshelf, and lots and lots of plants. Except I’ve never been able to keep a plant alive for more than a month and need shelving that won’t buckle under the weight of my not-so-modest typewriter collection.

So, I live in a house with enough room to properly accommodate the recommended number of litter boxes for a bonded pair of felines—with the added bonus of built-in bookshelves and two sisters turned landlords who don’t make me tend to the weeds in my yard.

I wanted to be the sort of person who lived a simple life spacious enough to afford the occasional road trip to national parks and coastal destinations. It appears, though, that the middle class is dead, so I’m learning to creatively budget for both groceries and my son’s college tuition—and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that my self-imposed book-buying ban isn’t going to afford him an Ivy League education any time soon.

So, it’s a good thing we live in a state that offers a (mostly) free ride to its residents and that the college campus is within walking distance from our house. Oh, and that I have a well-worn library card, too. 

I wanted to be the sort of person who lived a simple life that made room for creative projects—specifically writing a book (or two). Maybe a mid-life memoir or a young adult novel written in verse. But They (with a capital T) confidently told me that unless I had an enormous platform with tens of thousands of followers that I shouldn’t bother bruising good paper with ink. They also said that without the backing of Big Box Bookstores and Bezos, my bestselling book dream would be a nightmare, at best. 

So, when a badass woman-owned independent press said, “Yeah, let’s do this,” it turns out that They (with a capital T) couldn’t have been more wrong. I would offer to send Them a signed edition of my book, but, oh, what’s that? I seem to have run out of copies.   

I wanted to be the sort of person who lived a simple life because I thought it would be easy. I’ve learned the simple and easy aren’t one and the same. And I’ve also learned that, sometimes (not always), you can get what you want.

Cats encouraged, plants optional.