I've spent the last 2.5 months working my ass off. I've contacted, written for, pitched, and offered up my services across the land. I've tried to make a real go at this writing thing. Be it because of the economy and employers getting skittish, or just my own lack of skills, I've decided to hang up my writing boots. I'm packing my bags and moving home to the ATL.
It's not an easy decision to make. I never wanted to live in Atlanta again, and I never wanted to give up on the dream of doing this writing thing full-time. But ultimately, I need to be responsible financially. And rather than let the lights go dim and get kicked out of my place, I'm taking what little scratch I have left and preserving it so I can eat.
I lined up a job at a new restaurant that opens this month not far from my folks' house. I'll do that until I figure out what I want to do with my life now that I've realized writing isn't a viable option. I'd like to think that I went out fighting, there just wasn't any more funding for the troops so surrender became the only option. Surrender and survive another day, or continue to battle and die. I didn't want to die.
I'll miss all of you so very much. Especially Old Balls and Cobra Command. I'll be in town long enough to help the former win their Third Burger, but then it's splitsville for me. I'll be sticking around the Internets in the usual spots, but expect this to be my last post here. Not much use in branding a waiter with a nom de plume.
Thanks for the memories.
1 comment:
You're not a quitter. I didn't take this seriously for a second.
Now if you had posted that you were writing from a jail because you got caught with some whores in Tijuana and you needed legal help.
That would have gotten me.
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