I decided I didn't want the job and very gently, very politely gave my regrets with a respectful bow. Yes, the job might have represented a pay increase and benefits and the opportunity to take a vacation rather than burn it working at a second job, but I'm not ready to go back to working for the state as anything other than an a contract player who mostly just sits on his ass, listens to Mountain Stage, and works on his book while occasionally searching the internet to see if there are such things as lesbian dolphins, communist salamanders or clockwork bats.
As long as I've been breathing, all jobs are just preoccupations, things to do while I'm busy making other plans. I'm a writer. That's what I do and I think I still have a lot more to learn doing what I'm doing now rather than going ahead and doing something else.
Eventually, what I do here will pass and I will become a bartender, a truck driver, a professional werewolf or one or two of a million other possible things, but not yet. I'll always be a writer and for the time being, I'll also be doing that for the local paper.
It's a choice.
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