Life happens with or without you. When I struggle to write because the ideas don’t come, it’s how I’m seeing life that needs to change.
In 1985, I got a job at the Allentown Fair. I worked inside a large Pepsi can selling sodas. I stood there for 12 hours a day, three days in a row, and made hundreds of dollars in cash. I used the money to buy Izod and Polo shirts: I did it for status, to fit in with the others at school.
I can’t help making analogies to what I do now for money, and why I do it. I’m re-reading Ray Bradbury’s book, Zen in the Art of Writing, and how he picked his way through the years selling stories to magazines, sometimes only making $800 a year.
It’s impossible to think you can be great at anything if you’re only doing it part-time. Either go into the woods and work your way out, or read about it.