Writer’s block again. In Junior College I took a course in magazine article writing. I suppose I learned quite bit from this class but I remember only one thing: Write every day. This particular priority was to be the highest on the list of anyone who intended to make their living as a writer.
Same time every day.
Same place every day.
Take the weekend off and be back at my desk on Monday.
I was an entrepreneur. I had owned some sort of business every day of my life since my sixth year on God’s Green Earth. I was now twenty-eight years old, a peacetime veteran, a father of three; I knew after owning and managing a dozen businesses, the lack of stability of a person with my sense of direction and my current set of skills.
Getting this far in school was miraculous from my point of view. I had learned as a small child that doing my own research, owning my own business was the life for me. Because of my research skills I was placed in Mrs. Stewart’s sixth grade class when I was eight years old. I would remain there until I was ready for Junior High.
I owned my own source of income and I owned the ideas that were creating the self that was me. But in order to claim ownership for my successes I had to also take credit for my failures. And these were many. The magazine article writing class would, I hoped provide me with the skills that would provide me with some level of assurance that I would always have a method for producing income no matter how bad the economy or how poor my business decisions.
And so it is that I am here putting together a few words that will fulfill my obligation for the day. Thank you for stopping by.