Writing in the Rain

This region chronically suffers from droughts, so at a time like this, when a large winter storm moves into the area, everyone is hopeful -- not only that the coastal area gets rain but that the mountains to our east get snow.



Meanwhile I'm just grateful that the dark skies and pregnant air of the weekend have finally given birth to this rainfall locally.

For some reason this morning I recalled what it was like to be "normal," you know, to be married, own a house, have a job, unquestioned health, an unquestioned future, plenty of disposable income -- the whole American middle-class dream thing.

I have none of those things in my life. None.

Instead, I write. Few people read my words, fewer still know the little steps they could take to help sustain this work. On my BNET blog, I'm occasionally able to cause some trouble, but what does this amount to, really?

There appears to be no sustainable model left for writers in this society. We not only have to be able to write, we have to publish ourselves, market our work, and to keep doing so without any encouragement from the organized publishing world, which continues to hate bloggers.

Meanwhile, I'm just writing in the rain. There is no business model for me going forward, which is why I will never regain that dream-like lifestyle of my past, but will walk forward alone, listening to the rain, keeping to myself as much as possible, dreaming of a novel.

One that I, no doubt, will never write.

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