I’m twelve days into my new life as a full-time writer, and here’s what I’ve accomplished so far:

  1. Played ice hockey, on three separate occasions,  in the middle of the day.
  2. Played one round of weekday golf.
  3. Slept until at least 9 a.m. all but one day.
  4. Read each morning before getting out of bed. (I just finished an advanced reader’s copy of The Quiet Zone by Stephen Kurczy, and am now re-reading The Relaxation Response by Herbert Benson, MD,  the classic 70s treatise on the physiological benefits of meditation and other stress relieving techniques. Guess who is going to start meditating soon…)
  5. Played cards almost every night (a great game called Oh Hell!) with Kristen and her parents.
  6. Played a crapton (that’s a technical term) of piano. Since COVID began, my moment of Zen has been to learn songs I can play and sing on the piano. (I’m not especially good, but it brings me great joy. If enough people want to see it — you know, like a THOUSAND — I’ll recored myself singing something and post it. And really, like a THOUSAND!)
  7. Watched Richard Branson fly to the edge of space.
  8. And right now, playing with one of our two new kittens (Vlady) who is determined (hell-bent, I would say) to stop me from writing.

Something tells me I should he working harder.

Except….

From March 2020 through June 2021, I worked harder, longer, and in a more pressure-filled environment than at any time in my life. March through June of last year, I worked 80+ hours/week. That dropped to 60+ for the balance of 2020. All of that while facing the very real possibility of bankruptcy for our business. I published two books into the pandemic, both suffering as a result. I got COVID (serious enough to land in the hospital for four nights) last November. While Kristen and I were able to sell the business in December, which was a happy ending, the process of doing so left me reaching for the metaphorical Xanax. And finally, I helped the new owners of Tattered Cover settle in by opening not one, but two new bookstores before June 30 of this year.

In other words, I’m tired. Really freaking tired. My mind and body need to heal. I don’t think I realized just how much they need to heal. I’m allowing myself a less rigorous schedule through mid-August, and will hit the ground running after Labor Day. (We have a big family vacation in early August…more on that later.)

Of course, I haven’t been completely idle since July 1. In addition to the aforementioned leisure activities, I also:

  1. Incorporated my agent’s comments into my new manuscript, finishing a not insubstantial revision, and sending it off for said agent’s review. Our plan is to go out on submission in September.
  2. Reached out to at least one institution of higher learning to inquire about teaching/facilitating a writing workshop.
  3. With my agent’s help, started to foster relationships with editors who might have ghost writing/work-for-hire gigs for which I can audition.
  4. Began work in earnest on a SkillShare.com session for new writers (look for that to be live by the end of August), including outlining the entire course, and crating a first draft of the video introduction.
  5. Mostly cleaned up my home office, unearthing some great old (personal) video clips, letters, and other memorabilia.

So, have I learned anything from all this? Actually yes. I can accomplish quite a bit of meaningful work as a writer, while also leading a fulfilling life. And yeah, I get it, hockey and golf are not entirely fulfilling. But recreation is the first step on this journey, not the last.

My schedule of writing, and work related to writing, will no doubt increase, and increase a lot, by this fall. Bring it on, I say. Even twice as busy as I am now will still be a helluva a lot better than the alternative. And, without new streams of income (from writing) our money will likely run out this time next year, so I’m highly motivated to succeed.

Strangely, I’m not really anxious, or maybe not as anxious as I should be, or maybe not as anxious as I will be, about any of this. And you know what? That’s a good thing.