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I am an independent contractor of sorts. I am intelligent enough to do just about anything I choose—within reason, of course. I will never be an astronaut, he thought while sobbing.
And I am not being arrogant. I am a full grown man, and there is one thing my experience has taught me: I never fail at something I seriously put my mind to. If it bores me, I’ll just stop doing it. Others call that failure. I call it my choice. But if I want something bad enough. I will have it.
I always wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a writer when I was five years old. I tried to write my life story. It was a boring story. I changed that. Now I have stories to tell. My life stories.
I want to be a writer. So I write every day. Every day I try to write better than I did the day before. I write to be a teacher. I write to tell stories. I write for an audience.
I am always aware of my audience. I carry them with me always. I write for them unconsciously, often. Phrases float to my consciousness. I follow the thought. I write it one sentence at a time—keystroke by keystroke. I love that sound. It’s hypnotic—the clacking keys of writing.
I have written for six hours and collapsed from exhaustion. I’ve written all my demons out and I’m still going. All I do is write anymore. I’m a writer. I’m a writer. I am one. I am! Aren’t I?
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