I love clothes. Now, before you call me superficial or tell me that fashion isn’t an investment, I would like to say that everybody has something they love, and there is no point in judging someone else’s passions, because nothing good comes of it. I’ll say it again: I love clothes. I probably spend too much money on them, but that’s my thing.
But somewhere around when December 2010 rolled into January 2011 I decided that this would be the year that I took myself, and my writing, seriously, and that I would dial back my clothing spending and make the same investment in my writing. I’m not saying that I haven’t made a commitment to write, because I have. I am almost always working on something, first draft, hundredth draft, you name it, but commitment and investment are two different things, and the way I was headed, commitment only, I wasn’t moving too far forward on the path to publication.
The thing is, while I’ve been following the expectations of the industry, the darn industry has been shifting under my feet. It may be time to reassess my goals, and figure out a new way to get to the end point, ie, having a book in my hands with my name on it. There are certainly more avenues today than ever before, and they’re relatively unexplored by me.
As far as the money thing goes, I’ve been doing well. I’ve entered manuscripts in contests, signed up to attend a conference, joined local writing groups, and taken other measures to improve my craft. A quick tally of money spent shows that I’m doing what I said. Of course, there is this vintage Pucci dress hanging in the window of a store relatively close to my house. . . The good news? It goes with about half of the shoes I already own.