When I was in college, I had rock solid faith that I’d make it as a writer. I envy those days. I did less writing, but I was in love with the idea of being a writer. It didn’t happen as quickly as I had imagined.

I quit for a while. I restarted around June of last year. Have I made that much progress? Does it make a difference? If I knew that I would never made it, would I still write?

I’d like to think so.

I think I need a local writers support group. My wife is wonderful, but sometimes she just doesn’t understand. And really, I must drive her crazy.

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