Okay, here’s life the way it was supposed to go, according to the narrative in my head …
After years of working on novels and completing them, along with meeting people (authors, publishers, editors, reviewers, etc.) at conferences, I managed to get a short story published in the Sisters in Crime, Chesapeake Chapter’s first anthology. And then the publisher signed me to a three-book contract.
I figured I’d earn a few bucks maybe, because I didn’t have grand expectations as a newbie writer.
In fact, I have very little patience for anyone who comes into the writing profession with the attitude that they have produced an absolute work of genius such as the world has never previously encountered.
That’s because I knew that writing was difficult. That is to say I knew that good writing was difficult. And making a living at it required a few key attributes, plus the wild card no one can control. Those attributes are dedication, good habits, perseverance, a rhino-thick skin when it comes to criticism, and the willingness to listen to said criticism and make changes as needed. Plus the wild card—luck!
At some point, I figured on obtaining moderate success in this field, financially. Well, that happened, then it didn’t …
But then, if I’d expected success to fall into my lap, I’d have been sunk a long time ago. But that doesn’t mean I can’t succeed in my own way.
To say things haven’t gone as planned is truly an understatement. More on this later.
PS: To make it as an artist, you have to be an entrepreneur.