Since my last entry, nearly a week ago, I’ve been spending as much free time as possible researching phrases like “how to make money blogging.” It’s exhausting. I’ve absorbed thousands of words on the subject and learned about sites such as leavingworkbehind.com, problogger.net and minterest.org – resources I knew nothing about before. I feel alternately ready to dive into the world of professional writing at this very moment … and then suddenly light years away.
I feel confident in my ability to write; I’ve always felt I had a knack. I feel confident that there is an abundance of opportunity out there for a man like me to make a living turning words into phrases, phrases into sentences, sentences into paragraphs and paragraphs into content. I’m not afraid to do the work. I love to write. What I am afraid of – if afraid is the right word – is stampeding ingloriously down the wrong path. I tend to go into whatever I go into with guns blazing; I always go all-in at the poker table way too soon. I’m a gambler. I’m willing to bet it all on a single play. I can’t afford to do that here. Can I?
As the weeks stretch forward into months I have an image in the back of my head of me quitting my job and writing full-time by 50. I’m 47 for a few more months so I’ve given myself plenty of time to master my craft, focus my intentions, and pick the right path. Plenty of time. The only problem with that is that the further I get down this road the more and more I want to just … write.
This is my 12th entry into tombeingtom.com and I’ve tried to space out each installment so as not to wear out the welcome. But here’s the dirty little secret … the moment I close one page I long to open another. I could post daily. I could post twice daily. This is the most enjoyable thing I do, all week long.
That is both the most satisfying and frightening thing I’ve written since January 21st, the day I decided to blog.
I know 100% that I am on the right track in my search for my one big thing. My career in sales, these last 12 years, is about to go the way of my career in landscaping the previous 12. I’ve put in as much time as I care into both of those vocations. I gave them my due diligence. I’m not that person anymore.
I’m a writer now.
At least, that’s what I hope I am.
The words “don’t quit your day job” just went through your head, and they went through mine, too. I know that because I’m psychic; writing is a form of mind-reading. Stephen King, in his memoir “On Writing” said that writing is telepathy. We put words on paper and transfer the thoughts in our heads straight into yours. It’s the only Stephen King book I’ve ever read, and that feels like a pity. I’ll fix that.
I intend to read more than I’ve ever read before, these coming months. I intend to write more than I’ve ever written. Maybe I can start making money doing it. I intend to keep my day job, because I’m also a rational human being with an addiction to eating and drinking beer. Some things you can’t give up.
I can see a day on the horizon, however, where I go all-in. Where I leave work behind. I become a pro blogger. I just … write.
And that is the most satisfying and frightening thing I have EVER said.