After over 35 years of working for someone else, I started working for myself in October of 2008.
It has been an interesting change. Odd not to have to go to work every day, listen to the drama around me, be caught up against my better judgment in the goings-on. As someone who never really got used to other people being around, even after turning 50, I was relieved when it finally came to an end.
Now, I can turn to my writing. For decades I have looked on my writing career as little more than a dream, something that would never come about. It was a fantasy that I would never live to enjoy, because there would always be another project, another thing to be done.
But it has happened, and in a way this is more frightening than anything else I have ever endured. I have jumped out of an airplane, tramped through tropical rain forest, walked Hadrian's Wall, been in car accidents, tampered with reality in ways that may or may not have been legal, but this is such a unique thing that I can find no comparison.
I look forward to, and dread, what is to come.