My momma called me today.
Asks Me if I have a minute and proceeds to tell Me she wants me to write a book. Wtf!
Let’s set the stage here. I’m 50. Not a college student trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. No I’m a serial entrepreneur trying like hell to narrow it all down for once. Then my mom throws this curveball. After reading a few stories I wrote on FB about our family travels she thinks I may have missed my true calling.
Here’s the thing. I already have a string of businesses that were not so successful. Actually, They were, or some are, or maybe just about to be.
They make me happy. They make the world happier. They color my community and allow me time with my family but financially -disastrous! What I mean is that NONE of them have made me any $$. They made my landlord money. And my staff and My consignors and graphic artists and coaches window washers and VA’s and G-d knows who else I have provided money and employment for, but me? Nada!
So my mom Is now proposing being an author. Jesus Christ. Who makes less money than an artist? A fucking writer. That’s who.
“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to loose” right? I can’t make ANY less right? So. Let’s write!!