My bicep is sore. My ankles ache. I find it hard to straighten up when I stand. Why? Because I worked today. I, along with two other guys unloaded almost five tons of what was essentially wet dry wall and sheet rock. We did this under the scalding sun. My forehead essentially looks like bacon.
I know what you're thinking. Wait a minute, aren't you a writer? Why are you doing manual labor? Because I needed the money. There is this shadow belief among people who haven't tried it that being a writer is a meal ticket. You write that one amazing book and then you earn millions of dollars and live the high life for the rest of your life. Wrong! It doesn't work that way, not even close. Maybe someday, but for now my books don't bring in near enough to call it a living.
So tonight's post is short and simple. Writing is hard. Publishing successfully is hard. It is not a cake walk, or a golden ticket. Turn off your blinders and be realistic. Writing for profit is generally a bad idea. Profit is the thing that happens because you wrote. Write because you love writing not to score a golden ticket. If that is all you're after, just buy lottery tickets... lots of them. The odds are essentially the same.
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