Bill Paying

Commerce. The bane of all artists. The pit in which they must slog. How to do what you love and make a living. It’s a conundrum. Early in my life, I took my love of words into the world of in-house publications in the oilfield, traveled through the world of book publishing, and eventually ended up editing drilling and completion manuals. It wasn’t Dickens, but it raised three kids and gave my family a good life. Early on, I tried my hand at science fiction on the side and did some magazine freelancing, but eventually they slid away.

This little thing, my blog, was how I brought my writing bug back to life. In retirement, I became an essayist, doling out dollops of wisdom and observation, 300 words at a time. It brought forth a book about my late wife’s dementia. Now, I’d like to do it again, bring out another book. But unlike Mozart, Bach, or Beethoven, I don’t have princes to woo. I just have you, my readers. So, while I write, I’m offering trinkets to buy. Cups. Cards. Things you might use. I only have one problem. I think I need a bigger audience, because how many coffee cups does one person need, and my loyal audience is relatively small and tidy.

To that end, if you consider yourself a loyal reader, I’d appreciate your help in spreading the word and enlisting others to the cause. Share my social media posts, or send them to my blog. Unfortunately, there’s no great drama left in my life, there’s no cliffhanger’s waiting. It’s just me roaming around the landscape of what’s left of my life, observing and asking questions. So, I don’t know how you might sell them on the idea. But, being a fan of delegation, I think I’ll leave that to you and whatever gods govern the lives of writers, even us old ones, and I’ll keep writing, no matter what.