Member-only story
Your Dreams Only Matter If They’re Cost-Effective
It’s a tale that feels as old as time.
Over the last few months, I’ve been fortunate enough to make some money through my writing. I won’t get into specifics, but there have been glimpses that I can make a side income through the product of whatever words I can string together. It’s not a steady, constant thing, true. I’m not going to quit my day job any time soon. But it’s enough that I had to sit up and take notice.
I made the mistake of telling some people about it too.
(What can I say? I was proud of myself. I’ve only ever made money from writing through contests in high school and college. Luck, I suppose, has always had a hand in my writing journey.)
Their eyes would widen in disbelief as if I had told them some fragment of an old wives’ tales. “Really?”
The questioning tone probably might have offended some people. Sometimes I felt like I had to pull out the equivalent of a pay stub to get them to believe me.
I would nod. “Yep. It’s working out better than I hoped.”
But even in those fleeting moments it somehow felt dirty to bring up the concept of money. I write first and foremost because the act frees something inside me. I can be my truest self through the words I release…
