Why not become an author, she said. It will be fun, she said. You get to work your own hours, she said. You will become famous, she said. Sounds great, I said. I will do it, I said.
These words are now haunting me because my life is turned upside-down. I’m awake when I should be asleep and my wife wakes up in the middle of the night thinking I’m still asleep in our king size bed – she gets up to let the dogs out and then realizes I am in the office writing God only knows what. Letting the dogs out in the wee hours of the night is my job. She calls out for me to let them out with an edge to her voice. That is never a good thing.
By the time 1:00 p.m. arrives I am pooped and headed for bed. The cycle starts all over again. I do chores in the morning after writing or any number of other honey do’s until fatigue takes over. If we have to stay up because of family outings or the such, we both wake up the next morning feeling like we have hangovers. This is not good; it reminds me of days gone by when I was a young stud. Now I am just an old dud.
No one bothered to tell me that authoring is addictive. I would venture to say worse than alcohol or drugs. Once the writing bug bites you…you are a goner. Kiss it good-by, baby, writing owns you – heart and soul. The life you once knew is never more. While people are out getting a pizza dinner at six, I am sawing zees while tossing and turning waiting for 2:00 a.m. to arrive. I have lost count of how many times I look at the clock at night, which seems to be broken or sometimes running backwards. For heaven’s sake, brain, leave me alone!
It’s no use, I am a goner. If you are thinking about becoming an author, don’t – run while you can; save yourself and your family. You must realize the sickness spills over into their lives too. It would be better if you sold shoes at WallyWorld. I know that is harsh, but think of your loved ones.
I’m just saying,