So I’ve spent the last twenty-plus years being a custom knife and sword-maker.  As financial decisions go it’s hard to defend that choice; the business model would have even the most starry-eyed Venture Capitalist giggling.  “I’m going to make a luxury good with a limited market and hope that I can do it well enough to make a living. Oh, by the way I have no experience in the trade or running a business.”  Yeah, good luck with that!

So now I’m starting a new career to run alongside that business- being a writer of fiction.  Oh yeah, that’s better.  Join a profession where the average participant makes hugely less than a convenience-store employee in a good month, and ‘successful’ members barely make a living.  The percentage of people that make REAL money writing fiction is comparable to lottery winners.  Good decision. Well done, Tinker.

Why would I do such an admittedly stupid thing? Because I am the luckiest son-of-a-bitch I know.  I have gotten to live my dreams and get to continue doing so.  No, I haven’t gotten rich. Most of the time I’ve barely made it, and then only because I had a wife with a reasonably stable income who loves me beyond reason.  There is only one conceivable reason to pursue such lousy careers- passion.  Because it’s more important to follow that passion than it is to be wealthy or even comfortable.  Not to be overly dramatic, but that’s the traditional price of pursuing an art.

So writing? Really?  Yep, I’ve rediscovered my passion for writing and the dream of being a writer.  But I’ve discovered something infinitely more important- that Linda shares that passion.  It’s not just pursuing my dream, it’s pursuing our dream.  After supporting my dream for the last fifteen years Linda gets to participate.  We love to write together and we are better together than we are individually.  After all these years of having her support my dream at last we have a dream we can live together.

It’s not going to be easy.  It’s not likely to be lucrative. But worth it? Oh, hell yes!