Training is over. Finally. Part of me is happy about this, happy to get started in the day to day of the work, rather than some long boring lessons or repetitive exercises. On the other hand, the kid gloves are off; the safety factor is gone.
It’s time to put up or shut up or get the hell out.
That’s still the plan, by the way, if I can make a living writing. At my age, it’s increasingly looking like that might not be the case.
Then again, lots of people had strong second acts, so who knows? Maybe if I learn to market myself a little and demonstrate I’m a decent, forward-thinking human being, I can eke out a niche and have a few faithful friends.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1924 words, novel: Father Lightning