I em dashed myself today— to see if I still feel.

So you want to be a writer?

Calm down, Bukowski. You must love being poor. Do you like ramen? Oh! You like words and stories. Well, that's great. Just make sure you don't want money. Like at all, because you won't have it. Oh, you have talent? Great, so does almost everyone else. I say almost everyone because sometimes people who write Twilight fan-fiction turn their work into erotic BDSM stories. Then somehow that winds up hitting the best-seller list. Other than those maddening blips which make you question if humanity should die off, talented writers seem to be a dime a dozen.

Who am I to judge though?

I bet you turn a great phrase. You might get lucky and stumble into a publishing deal with folks who recognize your talent. You can self-publish but, that is the long game. This is like playing the video game "Civilization" and grinding out turn after turn. 600 B.C. all the way to 2300 A.D. I know quite a few authors who are successful and self-publish. That's not quite right. What I mean to say is, I know quite a few authors who self-publish that haven't shot themselves in the face yet.

Don't think I haven't considered it. You spend a few years of your life pouring over a manuscript, telling yourself you are Hemingway. The reality is you gave up drinking, you don't bleed so much as bruise, and you're too fucking verbose. Just look at that sentence and marvel at what a hack I am. You'll put so much time, effort and cash into editing costs that you'll barely be able to afford toilet paper. Thank god I'm not diabetic. If the choice were to pay for insulin or die, I'd be seeing a David Bowie concert next week.

Oh and sanity? That's always in short supply.

You already know this because you're the wispy-eyed dreamer type. Most writers are, but you are guaranteed to be continuously lost in thought. When your significant other asks you what you're thinking, you will always reply "About my book." If you answer, "I'm wondering if I can write a scientific reason for a sudden change in inertia, that could counter superspeed with violent results," you would be tossed in a looney bin. I mean, you are already halfway there.

Still, want to be a writer? Me too. We're both masochistic fools drowning in a digital world that refuses to notice us. Well, I guess if you like my rambling... you know... you can buy my book.