Dreaming of the Writing Life
When I was a kid, the writing life had a magical luster. I felt as though were I to become a published author, I would have “made it.” But beyond the mountains lay more mountains. I’m a middle-aged man now and there are still mountains further off. I had that first published story, and then I wanted a professional published sale and got that, and then a book deal, and on and on. Now, though, the stars have faded from my eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I still love storytelling more than any other job. But I’m far less concerned with fame and glory than earning enough to make a difference for my family.