Throughout the last seven days, I have wondered about whether this whole potential writing career is worth all the money to come to Vegas and all the stuff I will have to do in the future. I mean, my life is wonderful. I can volunteer and do anything I want during the day. I am retired. Okay, I can’t fly to Europe or the beach as much as I would like, but I have a good gig going. Do I want to start working on web-sites, publish six or more items a year as apposed to my one novel a year? Do I want to work with Trusts, Intellectual Properties, and C Corporations? If my books start to sell, this is a lot of work. Do I want to go from a two to three hour day to a seven to eight hour day? In other words, do I really want to be JK Rowling? Or one of the authors I met this week? I honestly don’t know.
I do know that I can’t imagine not writing. I can’t stop. It is who I am. I can’t not publish the novels I write. I read all of them this summer. I love them!!! Sure many days, I think I am the worst writer in the world, but many of the scenes in my first four books are bloody brilliant. Or like Calder would say, “they are frigid good.” I will take the risk. I will also work at getting some safety nets for me and my heirs. (Again, more about that later.)
With all the emotions that have been assaulting me the last seven days and all the money spent, this workshop has been worth all the ups and downs. In fact, when I get home, I am going to sign up for next year. Call me crazy, but I am sticking with the journey.
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