I like to write. I think I'm pretty good at it. That said, I just don't do it very often. I have grand dreams of becoming the next Hemingway, or Carver. Hell...I'd even take being the next Grisham. If you can't become part of the literary canon, having a ton of money dumped on you isn't all that bad.
I even make (most) of my living by writing -- technical writing. I write training manuals and user documentation for a range of different companies: software companies, banks, consulting companies. I keep telling myself that I'm doing this in the short term until I can sell some of my more creative works. The problem there is that I haven't written any of those in quite awhile. I have contracts now that keep me busy for 5-6 hours per day. I work from home, so when I'm done with the contract work, I take care of stuff around here. I run the kids to gymnastics and karate practice.
And I'm also a bit lazy. When given a choice between going to write something for myself and playing Lego Star Wars 2 on the XBox, or reading a good book, or (if I'm really lucky) even taking a nap, I always opt for the more recreational of the activities. I'm not saying any of this to whine or complain. There's no "Poor Brad, he's too busy to write the great American novel" sentiment here. This diatribe is mainly to remind myself that I'm pretty damn lucky already. I get to make a living using the best of my talents to work for myself on my own schedule. The trick now is to stop taking this situation for granted, get off my ass and really reach for the brass ring.
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