As if being a writer isn't hard enough...

What you see is a photo of one of my mother's paintings. The photo doesn't really do justice to the amazing artwork, but will suffice for the point of my story.

I inherited nearly 500 works of art my mother created. About a month into my new job at my government gray office, I asked my boss if there would be any agency objection to displaying my her work on the walls and livening up the drab atmosphere. He was thrilled. It was then I discovered my new boss has a degree in Fine Arts from one of the colleges in Minnesota. [What luck!] He didn't see any obstacles to my request.

I brought in several of my mother's paintings and put them up in my cubicle which happens to have a 20-foot window on one side. The comments from co-workers have been very positive. I know my mother would be thrilled her work is being admired and enjoyed.

At the beginning of this week, one particular co-worker came over and made appropriate gushing remarks about my mother's art. She turned to me and asked, "Do you paint?"

I pointed to three of my book flats [covers] and said, "I write novels."

She waved her hand as if shooing away a fly and reiterated, "But do you paint?"

I was so blown away by the fact my ability to create novels was considered inconsequential in comparison with painting, I was unable to say anything more than, "Not as well as my mother and brother."

She babbled on about artistic traits being passed from one parent to one child and other things, but I'd tuned her out.

Recognition for the hard work involved in creating a book is nearly impossible to get. But to have one's work insinuated as trivial? I'll not stop writing as my characters won't allow it, but I'm not sure I want to share with others my writing passion.

I hope your world is full of those who love what you do and let you know.

Sable Angel