Dizgaia ~ The Dreamfinder's Daughter

Chapter 3 ~ A Meddlesome Father

"My imagination?" This came as quite a shock. If anything, Mia thought her imagination was her strong point and her technical skills what needed improvement.

"Well, I suppose there is something there, but many of your concepts are trite and gratuitous. Much of your writing I found to be ingratiating and shamelessly self-promoting."

Professor Tremblay rested her elbows on her desk and entwined her long fingers.

"Frankly, Miandra, I simply do not believe you have what it takes. That is my honest opinion. I would suggest a change of majors or transferring to a different college entirely. You are simply not cut out to be a writer. Do yourself a favor and don't waste any more of your parents' money. There are plenty of other careers out there, and to be honest, a novelist is simply not a viable way to make a living anymore. That would be true even if you were talented."

Mia was devastated. If the head of the English Department said she wasn't cut out to be a writer, then surely it must be true. Just like that, all Mia's dreams were dashed and her ambitions shattered. Thus, it was in the first semester of her sophomore year that Miandra dropped out of university.

~~~

"That witch!" her father fumed. "What does she know?"

"She's the head of the university English Department," Mia replied sullenly over her first home-cooked meal since returning from school. "I assume she knows a good deal."

Edward refused to accept it, which didn't make it any easier on Mia. Her mother, however, took a more practical stance on the matter.

"I know you're disappointed, sweetie, but don't give up on college entirely. There are many more viable career options available to you."

Yes, that's what Professor Tremblay said, too, Mia thought, but she held her tongue.

"I encouraged you to go into nursing when we were first looking at colleges, remember? Why don't you give that some consideration? I can even tutor you, if you need help."

"I just don't know," Mia sighed as she pushed her food around with her fork.

"I've made a successful career of nursing for 18 years now and I find it very fulfilling. Wouldn't you like to help people?"

"It's not that I don't want to help people," said Mia. "It's just that I thought I could bring joy to people through my writing."

"Well, dear, maybe you can still dapple on the side. But with all the technology today, nobody really reads books anymore. I suppose you could try self-publishing on the internet, but there's so much competition now, and it's difficult to make a sustainable income that way. These days the only way an author makes anything off their work is if Hollywood decides to make a movie of it. You need something to fall back on, honey."

"I'll think about it, okay?" Mia rose from her seat, her food untouched. "May I be excused? I have a lot of unpacking to do and I'm tired after the long trip." She didn't wait for permission before leaving her parents alone in the dining room.

"This is crazy," said Edward once she'd left. "It doesn't make any sense. You know as well as I that she's an incredible writer."

Beverly sighed. "Be that as it may, perhaps it's for the best. What sort of future would she have as a struggling author?"

"But it's always been her dream, Bev!"

Beverly shook her head sadly. "Not all dreams are meant to come true. There's a reason the phrase 'starving artist' exists. I don't want my only daughter living in squalor. We won't live forever, Edward. I want to know that she'll be financially secure when we're gone."