***100 words (Hour Eight)***

Talking with myself, oh-oh…

I want to thank all those who’ve, so far, commented on my 100 words project. Thank you so very much for the encouragement and support. Partially for y’all, I dedicate this next post.

And—of course—I draw a blank.

Okay, Joel. No need to panic. You can write for something. I mean, you have an hour to do so.

Actually, you don’t, Joel. We have all that work stuff to deal with. Damn. Why didn’t you become a successful, full-time, writer when you had the chance when you were twenty-four?

What? Are you crazy? I was just starting out on writing. Heck, I never even considered it (that is, making writing a full-time career) as a goal until The Spouse offered me the opportunity.

Which you wasted….

Well, maybe. But what’d you expect? Here I was, newly graduated from college, a work-alcoholic who had been a “sugar daddy” to a lover and two children and barely out of that relationship, and suddenly I’m in love with someone who tells me, “wanna write full-time?” Even now—more the a decade later—I’m still not fully comfortable with the idea of being a full-time writer. Look at Holly and Sheila and their struggles. They started far earlier than I did, have nearly as much talent, and are better wordsmiths.

But—oops. Time’s up.

Well, that’s what you say. Now where’s that pencil and paper?

Count: words 236