When, on April 15th, I signed our joint tax return, prepared by my accountant type husband, I scribbled my name on the line above his typed assignment of my occupation: volunteer librarian. Granted, a giant step up from the previous years where I was categorized as "homemaker". The usually straight up Jack really took a risk on that one; we would have surely been heading towards an audit had the IRS delved at all into that career classification. In no way do I extol the traditional values assigned to a homemaker, anyone with eyes (and on very bad days, a nose) can tell from the front door that there is not a great deal of homemaking going on inside. However there is writing, quite a bit of writing, but for Jack, it's not writing as a career choice until you are paid to write. To be clear, no one has ever paid me to be a volunteer librarian, nor, obviously, have I ever received monetary compensation for my excellence in career homemaking.
Either I figure out how to fill out a tax return, which is as likely as me discovering how to retract the cord on the vacuum cleaner without cowgirl tricks and sailor language, or I write something someone can publish.
