Excuses, Excuses – Part 1

In the year and a bit I’ve been working at my day job, it has been fairly common knowledge that I am a writer, but it wasn’t until my recent announcement of my Small Gods series being released through Paper Gold Publishing that my co-workers really sat up and started paying attention. Since then, I’ve had numerous requests for books and many conversations about writing and being a writer. One particularly interesting conversation happened a couple of days ago when I was speaking with my boss. During this interchange, he commented on how knowing someone who is a published author (and getting to know them before it really hits  home that they are such) actually changes how he thinks about authors at large, gives him the insight that writers are just real people like anyone else.

With this in mind, we come to today’s entry. In my last post, I mentioned that I had been away for a while after an intense year. I left it purposely vague because I tend to be a private person when it comes to personal issues, but I’ve decided it’s time to lift the proverbial veil. Time for all to know that Bruce the writer is a real person. To accomplish this, let’s take a look back a little over two years ago.

Those of you who are dedicated blog followers may remember my These Are the Days of Miracles and Wonder post from back in October of 2012. As a reminder, or to fill in those who might have missed out, I lost my job, which at first glance seemed horrible, as it would to most people. Then, after a couple of hours to reflect on my situation, it began to seem like the best opportunity of my life (and perhaps the worst decision ever made by my former employer if everything I’ve heard is true). Like anything else, the year that followed had some very high highs an some very low lows.

First, the good. In the year I was off work, I published 5 books plus 4 parts to an erotica serial co-written with my wife (have a look at my stuff here). During that time, I actually sold some books and made some money; more than the average writer makes in a year, to be honest (but nowhere near as much as I made at my job). Being able to sit and write or edit–do something that contributed to publishing and fed my creative needs–gave me joy beyond words. That, and taking daily walks with my wife, being able to get my daughter ready for school every morning,  being available when my family needed me. This was the dream I always wanted to live. Hours spent with the people I love, or sipping a mocha in a coffee shop with my laptop open in front of me. Life couldn’t be any better, right?

The thing about dreams is that you always eventually wake up.

Sound cynical? Come back soon for part 2 an find out more.

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