April 13, 2009
Originally published November 15, 2003
I ask myself that question a lot anymore. What IS next?
I've lost hold on everything I ever cared about. Over the past two years, the woman I loved betrayed me, I lost my home, my son, my goats, my chickens, my farm and even my goddam dick for eighteen months. It's been a rough ride.
I don't know where I'll end up from here. But I feel a tremendous sense of freedom from knowing that there isn't much that anybody else can take away from me today.
I'm doing a lot of writing now, but I don't know whether it's any good or not. I should probably back off the novel and see if I can market a couple of short stories or magazine articles. I don't need the money; I just want to know whether or not I can sell what I write.
I believe that I can. I am seldom at a loss for words and I do have that "ego a mile wide" that this person accused me of having.
I need to know. Looking at the wreckage I've made of my life, I shouldn't have any ego at all. But I do.
I have never tried anything in my life that I wasn't good at. I've fucked up in my personal affairs, but I've never failed to succeed when I applied myself to achieving a goal. I have a goal now. I've always wanted to be a writer and every teacher I ever had, all the way from fourth grade through graduate school, told me that I had the ability.
What happens if they all were wrong?
Well, I'm going to find out.
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