To the joy of writing
Here's to quitting that minimum wage job *raise glass* and deciding to write for a living.
*clink glass against critical judgment and unlimited risk* To the joy of writing!
I know. I've heard it more than a million times by this point, ever since seventh grade when I first had the crazy notion that I wanted to be a writer. It doesn't pay the bills, or have a steady and reliable source of income. At least, it doesn't without a monumentous amount of effort.
Good news: I'm willing to be as Sisyphus, pushing and pushing my proverbial pen, no matter how many times it runs out of metaphorical ink.
Bad news: My tax money is going to run out.
I'm not entirely new to the game, but I'm not far enough to be considered "professional." Starting my first novel at 14, finishing at 17, and self-publishing it at 20, I produced a monster of 220,000 words on 550 pages. Failure.
Others say that just finishing the book counts as an accomplishment, and I would agree with them if I didn't have 50 more copies stored somewhere collecting dust with a loss of over $1,000.
Truth is I couldn't sell it, mostly because I knew it wasn't the best I could manage with that story and with those characters. Too much of my typical teenage angst and I never made the effort to rewrite the plot through the editing process.
I am ashamed to admit that I gave up on writing, my dream and passion and salvation. It hurt too much.
So here we are, four years later.
I've had a few more knives in the back and life lessons in the gut. I transferred to a four-year university and am continuing my education. I switched my major for the last time, hopefully, to Philosphy from Entrepreneurship from Theater from English, minoring in management instead. One of the reasons I wanted to be a writer is because then I could be anything or anyone at anytime, and I can never decide on that in real life.
I research and research and read and read until my brain hurts. I've written some freelance articles for the university paper. I'm rewriting the novel I published before, but as a whole different beast. My process is different. The world within the pages is different even if the heart is the same.
Bottom-line: This time will be different because I know more people, know more about myself and others, and am giving myself more time to reach my goals.
How about you? Are you giving yourself the time to be more than you once were?
