“One who waits for the perfect moment to act, dies standing still.”
And there, is one of the key lessons of the past two years of my life. And of course, the saying does seem to compliment my original…
“Only the moment seems eternal, and in a moment, everything will change.”
And did. And does. Evermore (quoth the raven’s cousin)
In “Turning Pro,” Steven Pressfield states that each of us will know the moment when we turn pro in our heads, even if it isn’t visible to the rest of the world yet. Answering the question of staying a hobbyist or turning pro is one each of us faces. The question of hobbyist or pro has been a central focus of my thought since my last post in November of 2013.
At first I viewed the question as, “Do I want to pursue becoming a full-time writer?”
Most, if not all of you will immediately see the flaws in that question. And indeed I pursued what Pressfield would call a shadow career for a time, writing hundreds of pages of non-fiction, the equivalent of two novels page count, over the course of semesters worth of business and marketing courses. Enough to earn me a 4.0 and the recommendations of every professor I was fortunate to meet, and yet, at the end of the day, there was no satisfaction in my heart.
And the question changed. “What plan can I devise to create enough income to become a full-time writer?” But really, that too is the wrong question. Nothing wrong with money, to be full-time at a profession implies a full-time income — at least in my mind. But money itself has never been the true goal. To me, money is a side effect of dedicated work.
Other voices echoed in my head, for now I’ll simply call them The Mentors, and the question took a new transition:
“What do I truly want as a writer?”
Well, I am not seeking awards. And to be honest, I’m not seeking literary standing among the great novelists of history. Unless it becomes earned, but not my thing.
Want to know what I actually want? To entertain and enlighten. And make a living while I’m at it so I can do it all the time. Pretty simple, only took me two years to have the thought. *smile*
And the coming days? Well, there will be writing on writing. On what I’m writing. On The Mentors. On what I’ve been learning over the past two years. Over what I’m learning now. And, a journey to be shared.
If you choose to stick around, awesome, can’t wait to meet you all once again. And hey, if I’m not your cup of tea, all good friend. May peace guide your steps whatever path you follow.
For many years I used a picture of a 1500s wooden ship, sails limp, adrift on gray waters, an eerie death mask moon its destination — as my computer wallpaper. The waters while not raging, were not calm. Constant movement. Constant flux. Life.
As ships of the Age of Exploration would leave port to sail into the unknown or to places only whispered in unconfirmed rumors, so to some of those ships returned with stories of exotic lands and peoples. Of places where humanity is tested against its own nature. Of places where the fear of the unknown comes into contact with the deepest lusts and desires of the human heart. Of places where there is only gray and the truth is little more than a mist warming away on the first ray of heat.
The past two years have taken me to many ports and places I never thought I’d go, and while I’ve yet to unearth a lost city of gold or temple of arcane wisdom — I built them instead. And it is my hope, you’ll stick around to see those as well.
So, I’m back at the home port now, and trust me I’ve a tale or two, and a new skill or two, that I’ll be sharing in the coming weeks.
Next post will be soon. I’m doing the final prep for NaNoWrimo 2015 and cleaning out the cobwebs from the platform. Just couldn’t wait to say “Hello,” once more.