I’ve spent a lot of my adult life fretting about jobs, having job openings called to my attention, feeling a reflexive jolt of recognition at the sight of any “Help Wanted” sign.
I’ve often felt I was re-inventing the wheel and constantly redefining what I wanted to be when I grew up. That’s a sad state of affairs for someone with a guiding passion — writing — that is as well-defined, and that I’ve followed as faithfully, as the life’s work of anyone I know.
I’ve always said writers have to have two jobs. A doctor or engineer or school teacher find that their self-realization and bread-winning vocation are one in the same.