It’s always a great feeling to rebound from a near catastrophe. Yesterday was terrible, like getting caught out in the rain without a rain jacket or an umbrella. I think I’m really finding a renewed commitment to this writing thing. Who knew, at 40, that I’d finally find my groove.
Regardless, life is looking up and I’m moving steadily toward achieving my goals and the lifestyle I’ve only dreamed about. One of these days, I’ll be living a leisured life, working part time (or full time writing), near the tidewater, in gentle temperatures, and few bills (with a house paid for and years of expenses in the savings account).
It’s time to shift gears, dig in, and get some real work done with the finite time I have left in this world. If I keep my current writing pace, I’ll be able to knock out 4 books a year. That’s only 160 books in another 40 years (I’d be almost 80 years old). That really doesn’t seem like very much to me. Of course, this would only include my fiction work, not any non-fiction projects I’m working on.
Regardless, time to strap in. The light looks like its about to turn green.
(I wrote 1028 words and edited 3379 words today)