Adventures In Writing: A Failed Attempt At Stardom

I walked into my office a few months ago (early as usual) knowing quite well, what awaited me; at least twenty voice mails and thirty emails. I turned the lights off to my office, locked the door, and walked away from the agency. I couldn’t face it. Since I am usually at work before anyone else, no one saw me leave. I went home and waited for an hour to call our business office secretary. “I’m not feeling well Lois and won’t be in today.”

Sorry to hear that Stan. I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.” She politely replied. I thought to myself “I won’t be better tomorrow or the next day, or ever.”

Thanks.” I said and hung up. I had to do something. Burnout had overtaken me. I hated my job. The responsibility of managing forty employees unhappier than I, had taken its toll. Having an un-supporting leader didn’t help, but that’s a different story. What could I do? I knew that only one job would make me happy, writing. But, how does that happen? I’ve read all the horror stories. You know the ones. “Unless you’re a big name writer, you’ll starve to death.” Those stories have kept me going back to my office job day in and day out. Besides that, I’m old, too old to write anything worth reading, anything meaningful. I had to try, and much to the chagrin of my wonderful wife, I did.

I armed myself with the latest “Writer’s Market” book, the “Writers and Artists” manual, and about ten “How To…” books. My printer cartridges were fresh and I swallowed two Advil for my arthritic fingers. I was ready.

My first article was a marvelous one, if I must say so myself. I sent it to an appropriate publisher over a month ago and never received a reply, well okay then. I wrote a book, darn good book if I must say so, and sent it off to several publishers, no word yet. I know they must be dying to publish it and deciding at this moment how many books, they should print to keep up with public demand. Hmm?

As I speak, I am writing a short mystery story. I have several publishers in mind for this jewel. I can’t see any possibility how this one can get passed the editor’s desk. It is the ultimate in mystery stories, the prototypical mystery story if you will. Oops, my printer just broke down. It’s just as well; it really wasn’t the quintessential story after all. I only had wishful thinking, irrational thought patterns. It’s just something writers do sometimes.

I’m glad I only took a week off from my job. At least it was still waiting there for me, rotten as it was. I think there’s a moral to this story. Unless you have a very nice retirement nest egg or unless you are independently wealthy, don’t quit your day job to become a writer no matter how exemplary your stories. Money does not fall through your Internet lines, your mailboxes, or off the maple trees outside your house. Five million “how to…” books and two zillion Publishing House addresses won’t sell your works. What sells your books is a realistic approach to the business, e.g., understand the market, write for the market, write well, and just maybe get an agent. I’m off to the bookstore right now. I understand there’s a new book out there entitled, “Looking For An Agent?”