By Joshua M. Patton
Writing is not something one does to get rich. Some are lucky enough to become successful beyond their wildest dreams and others are luckier still to eke out enough for a decent living and the freedom to not have to work for The Man. I had a lot of success with writing when I was very young. It allowed me the sin of taking the craft and the business side of it for granted. Opportunity has seemingly become a scarce resource for almost every industry.
No, no, this is not a "woe is me," post although it is a dark day of the soul, if I do say so myself and I will cause it is my self. Yet, I did create this weblog and I suppose that since I have no specific direction for it, I can take advantage of it for a little self-indulgence. All in all things are well, but it feels as if everything is hanging by a thread and if it were to snap everything good could come unraveling apart. Chaos, pandemonium, rock fucking bottom.
Yet the thread and the center both apparently still hold. Thus, one must dwell not on the worries in life, but try one's best to enjoy the shit sandwich life sometimes puts on our plates. The college campus I visit four times a week is populated by both the spoiled brats of the well off that have never really had to try at much in their life. Conversely there are single-mothers and people who work two or three part-time jobs while maintaining a full-time course schedule. The spoiled complain about classes, parents, and their general malaise at having life thrust upon them. However those that have no parents to fall back on, those who life has beaten the shit out of, and those whose circumstances justify their being bitter assholes are hopeful of the future and grateful at the opportunity to go to our dinky little school.
So what am I going to do? Write. Study. Live. And try my damndest to be happy. I will have a weekly column appearing at Naked World Post each Tuesday. I continue to look for stories to tell and places to publish them. I am going to keep my main focus on school, a gift given to me by the country (GI Bill)…a gift not to be wasted. I will persist in trying to be a good Dad. This first semester almost got the best of me, but when it came down to it, I buckled down and made that fucker submit. The next semester is going to be even worse, but when we stop challenging ourselves we have given up, haven't we? Still like Ringo, I get by with a little help from my friends. Charles Bukowski worked in a Post-Office for twelve years and didn't make a name for himself as a writer until later in life. There are stories like this for whatever it is you want to do. It just takes a little courage to bet the farm and really go after what it is you want.
We'll talk soon.