"Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."
My Boog Pages
Saturday, January 15
Surprise, Surprise, Surprise
So, I was walking out of this Mexican restaurant the other day, carrying a takeout order for the wife and kids - and I have no idea why I was thinking about this at all - but I suddenly realized that a career as a professional writer did not seem as urgent as it once did.
The question I asked myself was: would I be happy if I spent the rest of my life writing and publishing maybe half a dozen stories a year. The answer was yes, I'd be happy with that. This came as a big shock to me. I've wanted to make my living writing since I was in high school, and I've pursued it off-and-on since then.
It seems I just don't see my life in those terms anymore. I'm a husband and a dad. I have a good job, but it doesn't define who I am. Like most amateur writers, I wish I wrote more (and I may actually get the chance this year). But doing it for a living doesn't seem like such an imperative anymore.
Now, using the George Costanza "opposite" approach, this may mean that my big break will come this year... and if someone want to give me a lot of money to write, I certainly would not say no.
New Tunes: Hot Hot Heat, "Bandages". Darkness, "I Believe In A Thing Called Love". A School Of Fish, "3 Strange Days". (Note: A School Of Fish released their only album in 1981, after which they were presumably absorbed by A Flock Of Seagulls.)
