Writing is EASY

TeatimeWell.  Here we go. Post #1 about the joys of writing:

So, you’ve ALWAYS wanted to be a writer. Ever since you were an itty bitty, tee-tiny little kid.  And your third grade teacher was so wowed by your two paragraph story about how The Little Engine That Could really COULD chug up that hill that you just KNEW your destiny was to live on the French Riviera and drink cocktails with other writers, painters, and…

Wait a minute.  Wake up.  You’re dreaming again…

Back to reality.

So, you said you want to be a writer?

OK, kid.  Let me tell you a story…

Being a writer is rewarding beyond belief. Nothing is as big a thrill as finally seeing your own byline on your first paid column, article, or book.  And that thrill grows as you sell more and more of your writing.  Your creativity blossoms.  Your skills grow. Your inner world deepens as it broadens.  But there’s a flip side, too, that no one wants to talk about.

We’re going to talk about it.

Being a writer is tough.  Being a writer who SELLS his (or her) writing is even tougher.  Being a writer who sells his writing, and then makes a LIVING at it is still tougher.  And being a writer who sells his writing and makes a FORTUNE at it is, well, a miracle.

I’m here to help you learn what it takes to be a real writer.  It takes skill.  It takes luck. It takes work. It takes diligence.  It takes knowledge.  And it takes business sense.

You have to learn how to coach yourself and take responsibility for your own success.

Fortunately, there are ways to make that easier.  One way is to learn all you can as quickly as you can.  And improve your writing. Every day.

More to come…
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Random Rambling

Teatime
Teatime
When I was a young writer, I had so much to say and felt it desperately needed saying. Life. Death. Love. Need. Loss. Trials. Errors. Tell the story, save humanity from itself.

And then I grew up.

And now, it’s all so clear to me. I know nothing. And have even less to say about it.

The Ignorance of Youth is the Gift of the Gods.

It’s the intoxicating brew that lets us step into the unknown, full of confidence that we, in fact, know EVERYTHING.

It’s a limitation of the brain that makes an acorn think it’s an oak tree. The potential is there, but an acorn is no more an oak than a College Kid is his Father. But who thinks he’s the better of the two?