Aspiring novelist seeks wealthy patron. Still has lots of years left in her. Is awesome. I promise. Except that was a sentence fragment, so that might make me look worse than I intend. Oh… screw it.

Last night I jokingly mentioned to my husband that I should put an ad in Craigslist looking for a patron. While this concept is, I know, laughable in our culture, it wasn’t always so. You know, as early fifteenth century, Christine de Pizan was not only a professional writer, but she was supporting her whole family by it. And it had nothing to do with royalties.

Patrons supported writers, provided them with money and living expenses, so that they could foster the growth of culture in their society. I suppose, these days, there are so many kinds of arts, and so many bizarre takes on art, that wealthy people aren’t exactly tripping over themselves to throw money at ’em.

But if getting a patron means having to live in a time period without private bathrooms, and with sewers that run through the main roads… well, I think I have the better end of the deal.

I guess, all in all, I just have to keep plowin’ on, eh?