Ten Things That Would Happen if Writing Became a Day Job
Accounting: could slow down in a big way and no one would notice. Meanwhile, the payroll clerk would become everyone's BFF.
Bosses: would have to do a lot more reading, stock up on Pepto, hire an extra secretary just to answer their intercom or phone extension and learn how to speak editor ("Get it done" = "If you can send this to me by close of business today I'll authorize your D&A payment").
Business Conferences: would have to include new events like Project Pitchorama, Character Dress-up for Literacy and The Vampire Ball.
Casual Friday: would be pretty much every day, and would have to be expanded to authorize the wearing of pjs, yoga pants, fuzzy socks and T-shirts with slogans like "OCCUPY PUBLISHING".
Company Coffee Pot: would burn out from overuse every other month or be filled with extra-large tea bags immersed in something vaguely purple that smells a bit like like the Queen's perfume.
Desks: would be buried beneath stacks of corrected chapters, two years of The Writer back issues, three dozen pens that ran out of ink and assorted widgets/gadgets/gizmos, index cards, newspaper clippings, and at least one hundred sticky notes inscribed with enigmatic phrases like "Sx scene Chap 9!!!!" or "Dismember by ch. saw?"
Offices: would need three walls of book shelves, stereo systems, scented candles, locking doors, pillows to scream into and at least one large window overlooking something pretty.
Personal Calls: would have to be authorized for mid-afternoon moments of panic when the employees need to call their best writer pals to say, "I suck. Go ahead, just tell me the truth. I suck."
Supply Closets: would have to be kept stocked with six months' supply of toner, bond paper, highlighters, red pens and lots and lots of notebooks with cute kitten covers.
Water Cooler: would be much more popular, at least until the boss discovers someone refilled it with wine.