It's a little disheartening, and not at all lost on me how similar it feels to following a career in writing, to spend so much time on something, dedicating waking hours and breaths to a task, only to have it fail.
Yesterday, in an afternoon-long editing session, I finished this draft of Project: GREY, my middle-grade science fiction adventure.
To become a writer people will pay for you have to become a writer people are worth paying for
Turns out I closed my eyes, 6 months passed, I grew a beard, and both of my sons are now off at college making bad decisions.
I'd like to throw my hat into the, "find a way to connect this physical activity with this very non-physical activity" ring, if that's okay?
Here's comic writer/screenwriter Bryan Edward Hill saying the exact same thing I said yesterday except, you know, better...
Fifth Draft 