When I was three years old, I decided I wanted to be a writer. When I was nine, I realized I would need a day job. That’s an awfully tender age at which to have your spirit crushed, but there you have it. My parents were nothing if not straight with me.
I spent the rest of elementary and middle school brainstorming potential occupations to keep me afloat while I waited for my literary ship to come in. Unfortunately, most of the ideas I came up with weren’t so much “day jobs” as they were “different ways to become famous.” Here are a few of the careers I mulled over during my fame-whore years. Continue reading