Well, as I settle back into the life of a wageslave, I find myself increasingly disenchanted by it. I get up, go to work, come home, sleep, and the next day start it all over again. I would much rather that my morning commute be to my computer to write in the morning. I would rather have the free time to take off for borneo at a moments notice. I would rather live a much more bohemian lifestyle than I do now.
The problem is that I've gotten used to having a roof over my head and food in my belly.
I love the work of writing, but I hate the work of marketing myself to agents and publishers. I've actually competed the final draft on a screenplay, and have started work on another. (Although certain schools of thought say that there is no such thing as a "Final Draft" I'm content that it's as done as it needs to be to sell) The problem is that I can't seem to find it in me to go about selling the darn thing.
Am I afraid of success? Am I afraid of rejection? Am I just plain lazy? I dunno. Maybe I just like writing for the sake of writing, not for the buisness of writing. that would also explain why my largest body of work to date is this blog. No pressure, no chance of ever getting paid for it... just page after page of prose, thoughts, and humor.
Now if only it could keep the lights turned on :)
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