by Shelt Garner
@sheltgarner
As I approach 50, I have to come to grips with how even if I get what I want — I’m not going to get what I want. It’s not like if I become any sort of traditional success in the next few years that I can magically hang out with 24 year olds in Dimes Square.
Even if I become a huge “success,” I’m still going to a) be coming out of nowhere relative to my peers b) old as hell relative to the people I going to naturally want to hang out with because I missed out being “young in the city.”
So, I feel a bit forlorn.
I’m not going to solve any problems by becoming a success of any sort, other than I might — might– hang out with cooler people and get to, finally live in a big city with a proper subway system.
But…that’s it.
And, yet, that’s, in a sense, why successful creative people act the way they do. They go through all this struggle, dreaming their big dreams, only to realize that the reality kind of sucks.
Having said all that, I am fucking determined to write and sell my first novel within the next few years. I SHOULD be done with first draft by, say, the end of the year and the second draft by around some point in spring 2023.
I just have to believe. Believe. Believe. Believe.
