I've tried to tell her that success stories like J.K. Rowling's only happen once in a hundred years.
I've tried to tell her that it's hard to publish these days, and that the market is saturated with amateurs trying to get their big break.
I've tried to tell her that the bookstores are dying, and that the masses want mindless entertainment more than they want quality fiction.
But she still believes.
And somehow, she still talks as if I am the one who is going to end up with money. According to mum, I'm going to get my dream mansion, pay off all the family debts, and take care of her in her old age.
I would love for her to be right.
But, really, it doesn't matter if she's right is or not. Even if I barely get my novels published... even if their sales are lacking and I'm a starving artist for the rest of my life... even if I don't leave the stamp on the history books that I always dreamt of leaving... even then it doesn't matter.
If I can be the next J.K. Rowling in my mum's eyes, I have succeeded.
P.S. Of course, I sometimes use my mum's prophecies as leverage. Today, while trying to argue that I should have the last of a batch of Christmas goodies, I cried, "Guys, I'm writing the novel that will pay for all of your college tuition!"