The artistic life is a tough life.

If you choose to become a full-time artist, you have my greatest respect--and empathy. It's a very big gamble, most often it doesn't pay off in either money or prestige. 

Even if, by most standards, you succeed. 

I saw this early on with my mentor, the guy who taught writing classes up at the local community college. By any reasonable standard, he was a success. He written dozens of westerns, had written in Hollywood for big western series, he'd been elected president of the Western Writers group. 

But he lived modestly. His wife brought in the income during the tough times. He wasn't destitute, but he wasn't wealthy either. He was teaching adult classes for a few hundred bucks. 

He wasn't Louis L'Amour, but then who is? Louis L'Amour is, that's who.

And he was the successful example. I knew of some local artists who'd spent their 30s and part of their 40s trying to make a living at art and pretty much nearly homeless. 

I had written three published and three unpublished novels by the time I was 30 years old. I had an agent and was actively submitting. The three years had brought in less than sustainable income, to say the least. I was mowing lawns to pay the bills.

I realized when I married Linda and the boys that I had a decision to make.  I realized that chances of success at a writing career were pretty damn iffy. I'd probably spend most of my life working minimum wages jobs and trying to find the time to write and depending on Linda. 

I could have made that leap. I was pretty close to breaking through, based on the responses to my books. (I wasn't getting acceptances, but I was getting very complimentary rejections, which believe me, isn't normal.) 

I mean, I think I would have gotten better through experience. 

But I also had the chance to buy a book/comic bookstore. That intrigued me, frankly. I was ready for a change. But to be honest, I thought it would be a perfect job for a writer.

I then spent the next 25 years hanging on for dear life. Turns out, being a small business owner is no part-time job. Quite the opposite. Writing? Forget about it.  

In the end, I was lucky enough to break away for 8 years in my late 50s and early 60s to write full time. The store was finally functioning correctly and I had a manager, Sabrina, who could do the job of running the store day to day as well as I could. 

I gave up most of my income during those 8 years; got barely enough to pay my share of household costs, but that was fine. I was writing. I was living the dream without worrying about bills. It worked out for me and it turned out that I had a tidal wave of creative energy built up which burst into dozens of stories and books. Good, bad, or indifferent, I was doing my best--better than I thought I could do--and I enjoyed the whole thing. 

I became familiar with a bunch of writer's who had taken the path I hadn't. Who'd gone all in as writers. Many of them were successful by any reasonable standard. They had multiple books by major publishers, good reviews, and fan following.

And at least of few of them were struggling financially as they got older. Because, unless you are Louis L'Amour, writing isn't all the lucrative. It certainly isn't secure. It only takes a few unexpected emergencies to send a creative person into a financial crisis. 

The competition has grown ever greater and payoffs ever less. Unless, you are in the top 1%. Hell, the top 100th of the 1%, considering the number of writer s and books. You know, unless you're L'Amour. 

Meanwhile, there has never been a better time for a writer like me who just wants his books out there, who is satisfied with very modest "success." (I can just hear the professional writers out there saying, "Fuck You!" because I know how that feels when a competitor to my store opens and proclaims they don't "Need" to make the money.)

There are avenues in all the arts that weren't there 40 years ago when I started. But the basic haves and have/nots of the situation haven't changed. I also think this same dynamic is true of ALL the arts. Every artitst reaches that moment when they have to make a choice,

The fortunate ones find a career that is at least tangential to their creative efforts. But even that keeps them from fully engaging.

How's this different from owning a small business? Well, I always felt I more or less had my own fate in my hands with the store. I was in charge, I could make the decisions. Execution was everything and either I made money or I didn't, bottomline.

With creative efforts, it's nowhere near as much in your own power. I read too many great writers who have been ignored and too many horrible writers who have been greatly rewarded to have any faith in that. 

So if I ignore that blue of stress in the first half of my career as a storekeeper, it turned out to be a good decision

But I'll always wonder, "What if."