Manyayoungpersontellsmehewantstobeawriter.Ialwaysencouragesuchpeople,butIalsoexplainthatthere’abigdifferencebetween“beingawriter”andwriting.Inmostcasestheseindividualsaredreamingofwealthandfame,notthelonghoursaloneatthetypewriter.“You’vegottowanttowrite,”Isaytothem,“notwanttobeawriter.”
Therealityisthatwritingisalonely,privateandpoor-payingaffair.Foreverywriterkissedbyfortune,therearethousandsmorewhoselongingisneverrequited.Eventhosewhosucceedoftenknowlongperiodsofneglectandpoverty.Idid.WhenIlefta20-yearcareerintheCoastGuardtobecomeafreelancewriter,Ihadnoprospectsatall.WhatIdidhavewasafriendwithwhomI’dgrownupinHenning,Tennessee.Georgefoundmemyhome—acleaned-outstorageroomintheGreenwichVillageapartmentbuildingwhereheworkedassuperintendent.
Itdidn’tevenmatterthatitwascoldandhadnobathroom.ImmediatelyIboughtausedmanualtypewriterandfeltlikeagenuinewriter.Afterayearorso,however,Istillhadn’treceivedabreakandbegantodoubtmyself.ItwassohardtosellastorythatIbarelymadeenoughtoeat.
ButIknewIwantedtowrite.Ihaddreamedaboutitforyears.Iwasn’tgoingtobeoneofthosepeoplewhodiewondering,“Whatif?”Iwouldkeepputtingmydreamtothetest—eventhoughitmeantlivingwithuncertaintyandfearoffailure.ThisistheShadowlandofhope,andanyonewithadreammustlearntolivethere.