When I got word about my first fiction acceptance about 9 years ago, I was so excited. When I told my husband, he looked at me for a few seconds, said, "oh," and went on with whatever he was doing.
I've never needed encouragement, support or
permission from anyone else to write or do anything, for that matter. I made the switch to full-time freelancing in 2008. Every few weeks, my father still asks how that's going, and a few months ago expressed pleasure that all was going well. Because, quote, "I was sure you weren't going to be able to make that work."
If I needed encouragement or any kind of validation from others to do something, I'd pretty much be limited to sitting in a corner, weeping into a dishtowel.
Though it's not because of the husband's reaction (it is, but not
just that), I sent him on his way in 2005, after 13 years. Unlike his distinterest in my "hobby," I took an active interest in his hobby of drinking and screwing around, and showed him all kinds of support by sending him out the door to pursue it all he wanted. Do I have to explain what a
great fecking decision that turned out to be? Didn't think so!
Shelley