Member-only story
Little Joey
And his writing dream
“So have you decided what you want to be when you grow up? Next year you’re gonna be a senior in high school. Time is running out. You’ve gotta make a decision, Joey,” said his mother.
“Mom, like I’ve told you every year for the last six years, I want to be a writer.”
His mom forcefully slammed her hand down on the kitchen counter, “Joey, will you please get serious! I’m talking about careers, jobs. Writing isn’t a job! Most all writers end up as bums on the street. Most of them turn into alcoholics living off other people. You need to pick a career so that you can support a family and pay for retirement. You need to pick a real job!”
Joey’s father, who was sitting at the dining room table drinking coffee and eating toast, chimed in, “If I were you, Joey, I’d get on with the railroad. Railroad workers have secure jobs with good pay and good insurance and retirement benefits. Work for the railroad for forty years and you’ll be sittin’ pretty come retirement time.”
It was his mother’s turn, “And what makes you think you’re smart enough to be a writer? Your report cards have been absolutely dismal the last couple of years. You’re setting yourself up to be a bum. Look at your brother. Now he’s smart. He made straight A’s throughout high school and now he’s in college studying to be banker…
