I've been writing almost all of my adult life, in one form or another. In high school, I had a desk in my basement room where I scribbled on yellow pads and laboriously typed my pages of breathless prose on a portable typewriter my Mother had given me for Christmas.
I wrote magazine articles, one of them particularly good, but never pursued writing for money, always distracted by life in general, and most everything that crossed my path.
Now I'm beginning to contemplate ending my working life... that is, working for someone else, and concentrating on writing, hoping to make a very modest income to supplement my Social Security check that will start arriving in September. It's an intriguing idea, mostly because I've been frustrated with not having enough time to concentrate on writing as I'd like to.
Yeah, I know, excuses, excuses. Many writers have been successful writing in the wee hours of the morning and on weekends.
I'm not many writers.
This will have to do.