Like many fiction writers, the kind of commercial success that would enable me to hang up the corporate cleats and support my family with my storytelling has evaded me.
Unfair! Well, that’s what many in my shoes cry. Doesn’t the world understand our brilliance? We believe that we would be sooooo happy if we were a commercial hit, flying off to speak at writer’s conferences, meet with movie producers about making our books into something bigger, and soaking up the vibes from an adoring public.
[Yes, I must admit to fantasizing a bit myself. Especially, I wonder which actress we’d get to play my sweetheart Connie Kaminski? I’ve got some ideas…)
But when I’m thinking clearly, I realize how blessed I am to be a working slob. That’s where the richness happens. What would inform my writing if it weren’t for the challenges, characters and stories to which we’re exposed because I only engaged the world from a vantage point other than a literary ivory tower?
If you want to see the latest literary fruits from my vantage point as a nine-to-fiver* check out The Sale, a five-minute read that I think is as much about the human condition as it is about anything else.
* That’s humor. I’m often really a nine-to-niner.