I get asked a lot what kind of author I am.
“A good one.”
It’s a smart answer. A little attitude in it. I know exactly how it sounds. And the people who know me recognize the wink in my eye and the smile on my face. They know I’m poking fun at myself.
But that’s not really me. I’m much more complicated and restrained than a simple ego play.
I’m proud of my work. I’m not arrogant about my work. There’s a big difference in that, and if you’ve been doing this long enough, you understand it.
I’ve put the time in. I’ve lived what I write about. I’ve gone through things that didn’t make sense at the time and still don’t fully make sense now. I don’t try to clean it up or force it into something it’s not just to make it easier for people.
I write it the way it happened.
You know, I’ve never done this for the money. Some people think I have, but if you know me, you know that’s never been my motivation. I have what I need. I’m somewhat of a bohemian writer in that way.
The truth is, this is a very hard business if that’s your goal. Most people don’t make it. Most quit.
It’s that simple. If you’re doing this for money, it will be a long time before your first paycheck. And when it finally shows up, you realize on an hour to hour basis you made more working fast food part time as a teenager in the eighties.
That usually puts things in perspective pretty quickly. You write because you love to, and anything else gained in the process is just icing on the cake.
And maybe that’s where my approach comes from. I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone. I’m not trying to convince you of anything either. I’m just telling you what I experienced and what stayed with me.
Call it whatever you want. I just write it down. That’s the kind of author I am.
That’s enough.

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