It’s bound to happen: as you work on a story, you read or see something very similar to what you’re doing. Sometimes, so similar, you might even consider stopping.

It happened to me recently, while reading The Night Circus (affiliate link). Not that I even remotely considered stopping work on A Magic Life, but I did think, “If this plays out more as this book goes on, I could see somebody thinking, ‘Hey, he ripped that from The Night Circus!’” when this particular thing was something I was going to do in a comic book script that never saw production back in the mid 90s, long before The Night Circus was started.

The Failure of the Aluminum Hat

I’ve heard more than a few sorta-writers say, “They stole that idea from me!” (They being a publisher or movie production company.)

“Oh,” you say. “Did you submit your story to their company?”

“Well…no.”

“Did you pitch it in person?”

“Uhm…no, I didn’t.”

“Did you have somebody pitch it in your stead?”

“Huh? No.”

“Ah! So you’re saying your aluminum foil hat to keep production companies and publishers out of your head failed you?”

“Well…no, I just like the way I look in aluminum foil, okay? Like I have a Hershey’s Kiss for a head — sue me!”

“No problem — to each their own. But…I don’t understand how they stole from you if all you did was think of something you never acted on.”

“Okay, so they didn’t technically steal from me. But we had the same idea. I should be the rich one…not them!” (They usually say this as though it’s that easy to make it big.)

These “writers” don’t know the truth most writers who actually produce know: somebody’s already done what you’re writing!

Is Harry Potter Timothy Hunter?

Neil Gaiman and J.K. Rowling are well-known authors, right?

In the early 90s, Gaiman wrote a comic book mini-series called The Books of Magic. The story is about Timothy Hunter, a teenager who lost his mother and comes from a less-than-ideal family. He wears glasses and finds out he’s destined to become the magic user of magic users. He has a pet owl. He is trained in the ways of magic and struggles with just trying to be a kid.

Sound familiar?

When Harry Potter came out, some accused Rowling of using Timothy Hunter as the basis for Harry Potter. While the media tried blowing it up, making it seem like Gaiman believed this, too (he didn’t) — even if Rowling had lifted aspects of Tim Hunter for her famous boy wizard, Gaiman didn’t have the market cornered on young wizards with glasses. Hell, the old Dungeons and Dragons cartoon had a boy wizard with glasses, and I’m sure that wasn’t the first.

The Funny Thing about Stories

Here’s the thing about stories: no matter how much we like to think something is new, it really isn’t — at least on a thematic level.

One could say my first novel, Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors, is a cross between National Lampoon’s Vacation and Stephen King’s Christine.

Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors begins with a father and son buying a station wagon. Along the route of the road trip in the story, the O’Brien family stops in West Virginia where the more…”rural” side of the family is introduced. National Lampoon’s Vacation begins with a father and son buying a station wagon, and Randy Quaid will probably be forever known as Cousin Eddie.

But Cousin Eddie didn’t influence Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors — relatives in Ohio and West Virginia did. (Example: one branch of my family tree had property along a bend in the Ohio River. The river flooded, and a houseboat washed down from upstream. It settled on family property and they decided, “Hey — free house!” adding to the houseboat over the years.) And I could think of no better way to establish right from the start that the station wagon in Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors is more than it seems by showing a father and son buying The Inferno from Satan. (That’s not a spoiler — it’s all very obvious, right from the start.)

So What’s Original?

Plots and themes and even writing techniques are anything but original. With mankind telling stories since the beginning, the same stories have been told so many times.

So why even bother? As writers and readers, why do we keep going back to stories? Because stories are the glue that binds us no matter who we are and where we live.

While the stories we tell are the same all over, it’s how we tell them that’s ours and keep people coming back for more.

Orion, by the Mighty Tom Wideman: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tomwideman/

There are moments in life that make you glad to be alive.

I tend to be more…focused with the things I post on The Juggling Writer, but tonight I feel the need to be a bit more personal.

Tonight was one of those moments; one that if I were to close my eyes and not wake up in the morning, I would have no regrets.

My wife went to bed earlier. I tucked her in, kissing her over and over, amazed that I — this one-time geek who thought he would be doomed to a life of loneliness — gets to spend time with somebody so smart, beautiful, and talented.

It’s a chilly night in Texas. According to the weather on my iGoogle page, it’s 38 degrees. People up north, where I grew up (Chicago, and then the northern suburbs), would laugh because they got hammered with the first real snow storm of the season. But in Texas, it’s breezy and clear. I know, because I’ve spent the last hour on the patio, alone, finishing a memoir about writing by Ann Pratchett and smoking one of the handful of cigars I’ll smoke this year.

Sometime over the weekend, I’ll write a more detailed review of Pratchett’s The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life (Kindle Single) (affiliate link). But right now, as my hands warm up and typing becomes easier, I want to share something — what I don’t know. This is how I write the books I write…even the short stories. I start with some ideas and hope that by the time I’m done, I’ve written something that touches people. This entry is like that: I don’t know where I’m going — I only know that I want to write. I hope it works in the end.

It’s been a weird couple weeks. My father in law died on Christmas morning, and in ways, it’s been harder to accept than the death of my own father when I was 22. It was cold when my father died, and it was cold the morning my sister died when I was 33. Come to think of it, it was cold the day my step brother died a year ago this week.

My father and my sister died from lung cancer, and I think about that every time I smoke the handful of cigars I smoke each year. But if the cigar I smoked this evening as I sat in the cold this evening takes several months off my life, it will have been worth it.

It was just me and the cold with a cigar and a memoir about writing on my iPhone. But damn, Ann Pratchett can write! I’ve only read Bel Canto (P.S.) (affiliate link), which…well, I can’t tell you why I loved it so much, only that I did. Sure, there are specific things, but it’s those things I can’t tell you all that touched me that still stick in my head.

I don’t think about other writers when I write, but one of my goals is to write something that affects somebody else like Bel Canto did with me. The best compliment I think I could receive for something I write is, “I don’t know why I loved it so much, but I did.”

Tonight, I love life. It’s after 2:00 a.m. and later today, I’m going to have tea with my wife and some friends. Nothing huge, but yet it is. There was a time that a night like tonight, even if I felt energized by the cold and the constellations above, would have left me feeling down. For most of my life, I struggled with depression. It’s not natural for a six-year-old to think about suicide, but I did. And it was something that stuck around in my head until I was almost 40, two years ago. At times, it was juggling that kept me alive. At times, it was family and friends. Later it was writing and my wife. But even still, in the back of my mind, it was always there…this weird urge to just stop.

I can blame it on the tumor, I suppose. I have a tumor in my head. Sometime in my late 20s or early 30s, in a journal I kept to try making sense of the depression, I wrote something along the lines about how it was like there was something in my head that made me…not me.

In 2004, almost a year to the day after lung cancer spread to my sister’s brain and killed her on one of the rare snowy mornings in Texas, I found out I had a 2.5 centimeter tumor in my head. I knew it was there before I knew it was there, but I really knew it was there because the friggin’ thing was driving me mad. It was pressing against my optic nerve, causing me to begin going blind in my right eye. It was pressing against my carotid artery on that side of my head. It made it hard to write, but I kept at it, even at my worst.

Somewhere along the way, things got better. My writing even got better. Life got better. And tonight, I sat in the cold so glad that the times I thought about things like seeing if I could kill myself by cramming a box of toothpicks down my throat with a wooden spoon are long behind me. (I once read that there’s a higher rate of violent suicide among people with pituitary tumors than that of people with diagnosed clinical depression. Pit tumors kinda suck!) Tonight I sat on the patio, in the dark, finishing Ann Pratchett’s memoir about writing. And as I finished it, this is what happened:

Things just seemed clear. In the distance, the sound of a train. I love the sound of passing trains — always have. As the train passed, a couple coyotes called out. I finished the memoir and put my phone in my pocket. I watched the smoke rise up from the end of the cigar and into the sky. Above me, my favorite constellation: Orion. I realized I had been shivering the entire time I was out there on the balcony. The moment I realized this, the shivering stopped and I looked up at the sky, happy to be alive.

Behind me, a warm apartment, with my wife sound asleep in bed. I thought about all we’ve been through in our almost 20 years together. It can’t be easy to be married to a writer. But she’s an artist, so she understands, and for that — I’m lucky.

We both have our moments when we need to be out on the balcony alone.

Some may believe the little moment I experienced on the patio as I finished reading The Getaway Car was fated, but I don’t believe in fate, and never have. I am an atheist. Always have been, and always will be. I do not believe that things happen for a reason, unless that reason is a reward for hard work. Writing is hard work — that’s why I love it so much. And because I don’t believe things happen for a reason, those moments are even more special to me, because I realize that as life goes on, eventually, cool moments like that are just a part of the odds as long as you have the fortitude to stick with the things that matter.

Writing matters. More than that, my wife matters. Family and friends matter. Life matters.

It would have been a shame to end that.

Looking up at the stars, it hit me: I could never bring myself to stop because that’s it. I don’t believe in anything more after death. So it’s all worth it in a big way. Just like when I’m out hiking, I always want to see what’s around the next bend. When I’ve had the mechanisms with which to stop it all before me — something to finally end the pain I felt for decades — I couldn’t do it because I always wanted to see what was around the next bend. In a weird way, atheism kept me alive because that would be it.

The end.

Finis!

Sometimes what’s around the next bend is a perfect moment like tonight. To some, it might not seem like that — they might think, “Big deal, you read a short memoir on the balcony in the cold while smoking a cigar and you heard a train and coyotes and looked at the stars. But I think everybody reading this knows what kind of moment I’m talking about. Just one of those moments when you’re glad to be alive.

As I write this, I hear another train in the distance. I hear coyotes again. (Apparently, trains drive coyotes crazy.) I look at my iPhone sitting beside me and think about what I’ve just read. I’ll think about it all weekend, I’m sure.

And in a few minutes, I’ll go into the bedroom and look at my wife sleeping and know that right now, I’m the luckiest man alive.

No real update today, but I want to share something worth checking out.

Author, Alex George, has a wonderful “story in five photos” entry on his blog, chronicling the evolution of his latest novel, A Good American (affiliate link), from a blank page, through several drafts, galleys, and the actual novel.

More than that, though, it shows what goes into writing a novel — all the ups and downs. The close calls and total rewrites after thinking, “This is done and ready to go.”

The entry serves as inspiration to us all, whether the goal is to release your own e-book, or take the traditional route. It’s why I was up early before the day job, today, working on my latest book.

It takes time to do something well, and Alex’s post is a great reminder of the payoff.

* * *

Oh! Alex’s A Good American, was recently picked as the Indie Next List’s #1 Pick for February of 2012! So check that out, too.

I imagine many people cringing if their kid said, “Mom, Dad…When I grow up, I want to travel the world hunting down monster myths with a band of friends…on TV. I want to be paid more than you guys make doing this crazy dream.”

Sounds far fetched, but it’s exactly what what Josh Gates of Destination Truth does for a living.

* * *

Imagine a kid saying, “Mom…I will make my fame as an adult by doing a wide variety of crappy and dirty jobs on TV. And from the fame I will gain, I will become a spokesman for Ford and do a lot of narrating work.”

Again, far fetched, but it’s how Mike Rowe pays the bills.

* * *

The list goes on:

“I’m gonna grow up and travel the country doing all kinds of wacky things at festivals and riding roller coasters…” (Bert Kreischer of Bert the Conqueror’s gig.)

“I’ll be paid better than you guys to travel the world eating gross things…” (Andrew Zimmern’s gig on Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern.)

“I’m gonna become known for making funny and sometimes touching videos on this thing called the Internet…all on my own…” (Ze Frank.)

“I’ll rise up from this table where we’re playing Dungeons and Dragons and turn a career in stand up comedy into hosting gigs and then starting my own little media empire on the Internet…” (Chris Hardwick of The Nerdist.)

So really, “I’m going to be a writer,” doesn’t sound so far fetched — even, “I’m going to do my day job without much complaining and write and write and write and release electronic books all on my own and become a millionaire…” (Amanda Hocking.)

But They Are Exceptions

When mentioning people like those listed above and the countless others who make a living juggling, painting, SCUBA diving, and so many other things, many people say, “Yeah, but they are the exceptions.

True.

But the funny thing about exceptions: somebody will always be “the exception” — and it’s not going to be the person who spends her time doing nothing and telling others that their dreams are ridiculous…

Here’s to a productive week!

On Monday, I posted an entry about how to make time. People really seemed to like it.

I received email from somebody asking what to do with that time when you reclaim it.

I thought it was weird.

Last night, though, a friend posted on Facebook that he was checking work email. Since I’m working on a big project with my day job, I almost booted up my work computer to check email as a reaction to reading about a friend working late.

And that’s not like me.

While I’ve worked nights and weekends, recently, it’s my choice. I wrapped up work earlier today, shut my work computer down, and put it in my briefcase so it wouldn’t even be on my desk until morning. But for a moment, I almost dragged my work system out to check what I’ll see after posting this entry and having breakfast.

This is the closest I’ve ever been to having that knee-jerk reaction to checking on work, even when I don’t need to. So I can understand people being so wrapped up in work–for so long–that they don’t know what to do with their time when they finally take a stand and claim an hour or two.

So here are some suggestions:

How to Kill an Hour of Time

See People - It’s possible to live with people you love and not really see them. Or maybe you always tell friends you’d love to get together for a drink. So why not do it?

Play a board game with your family; spend some time just talking to your spouse or a good friend. Go in the yard or to a park and play with your kids.

The people we love are a big reason to work hard and live a life you enjoy. So get busy seeing some people! No TV–no distractions–just enjoying time really being with people who make your life snazzy.

Meditate - Meditation doesn’t have to be a big thing; it can be as simple as telling everybody you live with to give you half an hour or an hour, going in a room, closing the door–maybe turning out the lights–and relaxing.

Maybe you listen to music to block out background noise and then work to clear your head. Maybe you go as far as earplugs and sit in a chair with your eyes closed and relax. (I use ear defenders people use when shooting guns.) Maybe you love stretching out on the couch and staring at the ceiling. (I’m a big fan of this one, too.) Hell, maybe it’s a certain videogame that clears your mind. (Certain snowboarding games were once my go-to Zen-flow break.)

Meditation doesn’t have to be what many people think: sitting in lotus position and saying “Ommmmmm…” over and over.

Just spend time alone, clear your mind, and relax!

No matter what you do afterward, any tension from a busy schedule eventually melts away.

Get Out - Even if it’s just getting out with somebody for a cup of coffee, go someplace else!

Don’t talk about work; talk about things that don’t stress you out.

Some of the best evenings of my life have been spent visiting friends, or having friends over so they can get out and not have to worry about dinner, cleanup, or anything like that. I’m also a fan of an evening drive in the country with my wife.

You’ll find that you do better work when you–at the very least–get out for a short time.

So do it!

Read – One of the best ways to lay claim to time is to do something so many people say they don’t have time to do: read!

Grab a book and curl up on the couch for an hour and lose yourself. Turn off the TV, go to bed early, and spend some time reading. Go to a park, sit under a tree, and read.

If you write, you should be reading. Really reading. As in “no device like an iPad that allows you to jump online every five minutes to see what’s up in the world,” reading!

An hour to seriously do nothing else but read.

It’s amazing how many writers no longer do this.

Move Your Body - Go for a walk or hike. Put a heavy bag in your garage and beat the crap out of it for awhile. (A friend does this.) Lift some weights.

I’m a sucker for tennis. And juggling.

There are times in my life when the stresses of work and a medical condition make me want to put holes in walls.

That all goes away with something as simple as a walk.

Exercise is great.

Get some!

Soak in the Tub - A couple weeks ago, while working on a Saturday night (yeah, I really did that…soooooooooo not me!), my wife told me she was going to draw a bath for me, light some candles, and make some green tea.

She told me to get my ass in the tub and relax.

It worked.

If you reclaim an hour of your time, a soak in the tub is a good way to spend 60 minutes.

Hobbies - I know people who don’t have hobbies. As a juggler for 30 years, I find that beyond strange. I’ve talked to some people without hobbies and the story is always the same.

They feel a hobby is frivolous.

Bullshit!

There’s no better reason to be an adult than to be able to do the things you enjoy. For no other reason than that: you enjoy something.

My wife sews and juggles. I juggle and have other hobbies.

To not do something you love is a travesty to your very existence! There are people out there who would kill to have the opportunity to pursue something for no other reason than they want to.

So find something you dig…and do it!

Stick to Plans - Sure, there are times when you have to cancel plans for work or other responsibilities…but at some point, you have to take a stand.

I’ve heard managers tell coworkers that coworkers’ kids will have more baseball games and other things down the line. I was told by one old manager that since my wife and I don’t have kids, that I should be even more available to work at a moment’s notice and travel for my job.

One of the crappiest things you can do to yourself is let other people dictate how you live your life and spend your time.

So if you have plans, stick to them!

Stop Reading This!

If you’ve read this far and have done nothing for yourself today, stop reading this and go do something you want to do! (It’s 6:30 a.m. and I’ve already spent an hour on other writing and half an hour on this entry.)

It really is as easy as claiming an hour and doing your thing.

* * *

I’m curious: what do you like to do when you have an hour all to yourself?

Jennifer Colliau, founder of Small Hand Foods, is featured in the latest issue of Imbibe Magazine.

“Who is Jennifer Colliau, and what does she have to do with writing?” you might ask?

Looking at the sites I linked to, it might seem like she has nothing in common with writing. She has studied the craft of woodworking, and she makes custom syrups for fine cocktails. She tends bar and stays very busy pursuing the things that excite her.

So what does she have to do with writing?

Nothing, necessarily–but I enjoy reading about people who obsess over the things they love (like many of us obsess over writing). After an article discussing Ms. Colliau’s detail in all she does (her small-scale syrups business doesn’t bring in much profit, so she still tends bar and does other things to make ends meet), she sums up why she doesn’t take the easier route and create things that would give her better odds of making money:

“That’s not to say I couldn’t make a good limoncello or crème de cassis, but it’s not that exciting to me; and if I’m not going to make that much money at this, it better be goddamn exciting.”

Stitch by Stitch

My wife finds historical costuming exciting.

When people see what she does, instead of listening to how excited she is about it, many jump straight to, “You should make money doing that!” (and then proceed to tell her how she should do it).

Nevermind that she does it for herself; nevermind that she knows quite a few people who do it for money and have lost some of their passion for costuming because they’re busy making outfits they may not particularly like for money and putting off projects of their own that excite them.

When many people see what my wife does and finds out that she doesn’t make money doing it, they think she’s insane for spending time on something she loves instead of trying to turn it into the way she earns a living.

Your Money or Your Life

I’ve read more than a few personal finance books in my time. One of them that sticks out is Your Money or Your Life.

While the book becomes quite repetitive, I liked it because it’s one of the few financial books I’ve read that stresses valuing your time and standing firm on the things that mean the most to you. In short, the message is, “Your life may be short; be secure, but more than that–do what excites you and work toward living that life.”

I’m working overtime on a project of work right now, but I’m not stressing about it because I know at the end of my life, nobody’s going to appear at my side saying, “All that overtime you worked defined the person you were.”

It’s the times doing what excites me that will.

Writing excites me.

The Excitement of Writing

I generally stay quiet about what I’m up to with writing around many people. As I continue getting rejections that say, “You’re a very talented writer and I liked this, but it’s not quite mainstream enough,” I know if I discuss things with most people, I’ll hear what I’ve heard before: “Well then write what’s popular!”

Those people don’t get it, though–I want to write what I want to write; not write something just because it’s more commercial.

When these people complain about not making as much money at their jobs that don’t even vaguely excite them, I fight the urge to say, “Then do something that pays more!” Thing is, that only covers half of their argument toward me–I’m at least excited about writing, whereas they are anything but excited about their jobs.

For so many people, everything is about money…even if it means never doing what you want to do in life.

“You Should Write a Vampire Story.”

I’ve had people tell me that I should write a vampire romance because, “They sell!”

Paranormal urban romance doesn’t appeal to me one bit. (That’s not a knock on the genre–I think people should write and read what they want, and if vampires are your thing, it’s what you should write–but I have different preferences in the things I read and write.) Even though people are making money writing paranormal romance right now, it doesn’t excite me.

To write “what sells” would be like Jennifer Colliau putting another limoncello on the market, instead of what excites her.

I write what excites me; there’s no better reason to write than because you want to.

There’s nothing wrong with going for the money–hell, you may end up happier than many people doing what excites them–but there’s definitely nothing wrong in writing what excites you.

Whether you’re creating the writing equivalent of yet another limoncello or crafting the equivalent of some long-forgotten ingredient found passed down through decades, be excited about it, or don’t do it!

I have a little secret about the first novel I ever wrote: I’m really, really sick of it!

It started out as a screenplay, which was edited several times.

Then I used the screenplay as an outline for a novel, which was edited several times.

Then I recorded the novel and released it as a free podcast, which wasn’t edited several times, but still–I was more than familiar with the story.

Now I’m doing a polish on the novel so I can release it as an e-book next month.

When I’m done, I don’t intend to ever do anything with the story ever again. (Unless somebody wanted me to turn it into a graphic novel–I’d do that in a heartbeat. Or a musical! Every musical needs a possessed Chihuahua as a major character, right?)

Sick of Your Own Writing

When I say I’m sick of the first novel I wrote, I don’t mean I dislike it.

After a myriad readings in many formats, there are parts that still make me laugh out loud. There are parts that, for all its goofiness (it’s a humorous coming-of-age story about a family traveling cross country in a possessed station wagon), still tug at the heart strings a little.

I’m proud of the story in many ways.

I’m just sick of editing it over and over and over and over…

The Loneliness of a Long Distance Writer

Haruki Murakami wrote a nifty little book about running and writing, drawing parallels between writing a novel and running marathons. (You can read my review of the book here.)

He says marathons are easier and take less out of him. In fact, part of the reasons he runs marathons is to keep his body strong so he’s fit enough to endure the damage he feels from wading through a novel and its many drafts.

I’m not as prone to melodrama as Murakami, but there does come a time when you feel like giving up after reading the same page out of hundreds for what feels like the thousandth time!

At the very least, it takes a certain tenacity to finish a novel.

Putting it in Perspective

Look at this word:

WORD

Stare at the word word long enough and word begins to not really look like a word at all–just some strange thing existing on a page misspelled and without meaning. (Wondering how something without meaning can be misspelled? Welcome to the world of writing and a taste of the madness!)

The word word is just one word.

Now, imagine looking at 65,000 words minimum.

Not just looking, but scrutinizing and sometimes even second guessing.

Imagine 100,000+ words, all beginning to look like glyphs without meaning. Your job is to shake the confusion from your head and make sense out of everything not just for yourself, but for others.

It’s not the easiest thing you’ll ever do.

So Why Do It?

I know more than a few writers who wonder why they do it at all.

For some it’s a compulsion; others an obsession.

Some writers approach it like an abusive relationship, swearing they’re leaving for real this time, but always coming back.

(I’ve discussed these feelings before.)

Why do I do it?

I write because I want to.

It may not always be fun, but it’s always satisfying.

The Payoff

Rewriting something bigger than most people will ever write for the fifth time may not make you happy when you’re thinking about all the new things you could be working on, but it’s always worth it.

I’ve finished three novels, four screenplays, and piles of short stories; comic book scripts, essays, articles, and even some poetry.

I can’t think of one time that it wasn’t worth it.

So I’ll now end this entry and print another chapter of the book that feels like I’ve read a million and seventeen times.

Why?

Because I’m a writer, and that’s just one of the many repetitive things writers do.

WORD!

On Monday, Kristin Bair O’Keeffe asked readers of Writerhead what they’d go the whole wide world over for.

She asked readers what they wanted in life–with their writing and just as a human sharing space on the planet with billions of other humans.

I answered.

As a writer, I want enough. By that, I mean I want to make enough money to get by doing what I love full time.

I don’t care if my writing lasts beyond my days or if I write something worthy of studying. I simply want to spend as much time as I can writing, spending time with the people I care about, and enjoying life.

(In case you’re wondering: as a human, I’d search the whole wide world over for the best falafel and red curry.)

A Sure Thing or Long Odds?

I’ve heard people at jobs talk about how they didn’t win the lottery. I’ve written about writing vs. the lottery before. Some people I’ve heard sounded seriously bummed when they talk about “losing” the lottery (as though they really stood a chance).

Sure, I imagine it would be very nice to have piles of money to travel wherever you want and live large. But the odds of making it as a millionaire by playing the lottery, or by becoming an overnight writing success, are slim.

Why bring writing into talk about the lottery?

Because so many would-be writers think about making it big over what really matters.

Millions or Enough?

I’ve had this conversation with a friend in my writing group: if we could have enough to be secure and comfortable writing full time tomorrow, would we take that over the chance at making millions as writers? It’s a fun and interesting thing to think about.

We’d both take a comfortable household income–say $75,000 (that adjusts with inflation)–if it meant we could do what we love full time tomorrow.

We’d pass on the chance to make millions down the line if it meant we could plop down at our desks right away and write full time.

What About You?

If you could have enough to pay for a nice little house, a vehicle or two, and an annual vacation (or a bigger vacation every couple years), would you take that tomorrow if it meant you could never make more than “enough”?

Would you take guaranteed security and writing full time tomorrow if it means you will never have the chance at hitting it big and making millions as a writer?

This Saturday, March 26, I’m giving a presentation at the Art Institute in Dallas about how you can use sequential content to keep people coming back to all you’re doing online (and how to use WordPress to manage your sequential content).

If you aren’t already a member of the Dallas/Fort Worth WordPress Meetup group, go here to sign up.

I’ve worked hard to create an accessible presentation that won’t leave people new to WordPress in the dark…but still leave seasoned pros walking out with a head full of new ideas.

The presentation is broken into three parts:

A Brief History Lesson

I promise not to make this a boring history lecture. I mean, look at that image below–that’s a real cover to the old New York Tribune depicting giant bugs attacking the city! I even worked the Friday the 13th movies and J.J. Abrams’s Lost into the presentation.

While lighthearted, it’s important to take a quick look back to see what kind of sequential content has always worked.

The history section wraps up with how WordPress factors into the mix…and what we all need to do to make people care about the content we create.

Types of Sequential Content

Sequential content is all around us. It’s so common that most of us don’t give it a second thought. That’s great when we’re consuming content, but not-so-great when we’re creating content.

Whether you’re creating text, art, video, or audio, I’ll show you ways you can use sequential content to hook people…and provide real-life examples of the concepts in action.

Using WordPress to Manage Sequential Content

Obviously, it wouldn’t be a DFW WordPress Meetup without talking about WordPress.

I’ll show you ways you can use WordPress to manage whatever sequential content you decide to throw at it.

Sequential Content in Action

And because I’m not a fan of simply telling people what to do, but believe in showing them how to do things, the last section chronicles the creation of a fictitious city site.

You’ll see how an idea becomes real and see how sequential content and WordPress work together to create a site that will keep people coming back.

Register Today

I hope you’ll come out the Art Institute Saturday afternoon at 4:00 for the presentation…and join us across the street at Sherlock’s when it’s all done, where the conversation always continues.

There’s still room, so sign up today!

Outside Magazine has published some of my all-time favorite non-fiction.

Years later, this piece about a guy building a hovercraft in his basement and this piece about a bunch of friends on a four-day road trip to climb the highest peaks in the Midwest (yep, you read that right), still hold up for me.

In the March 2002 issue, they published a “25 Trips of a Lifetime” feature. In the introduction to the piece, Tim Cahill talked about being on a radio show to discuss some outside adventures.

The show’s host, true to many annoying radio talk show hosts, went on about how vacation is a beach and fruity rum drinks — not dog sledding in Greenland or hiking in Tasmania! The host’s message was clear: anybody doing anything more than loafing and drinking on vacation was clearly not in their right mind.

After saying that he sometimes likes a nice relaxing beach vacation, Cahill went on to defend all the people who push themselves to greater things when they have the time. He said:

“So I did my best to defend all of us who aren’t in our right minds. These — I said of the destinations and adventures mentioned — are dreams. Everybody has them, though they often come in clusters when we’re younger. A lot of us first aspired to far-ranging travel and exotic adventures early in our teens; these ambitions are, in fact, adolescent in nature, which I find an inspiring idea. Adolescence is the time in our lives when we’re most open to new ideas, the most idealistic. Thus, when we allow ourselves to imagine as we once did, we are not at all in our right minds. We are somewhere in a world of dream, and we know, with a sudden jarring clarity, that if we don’t go right now, we’re never going to do it. And we’ll be haunted by our unrealized dreams and know that we have sinned against ourselves gravely.”

I know many people who wanted to take trips to far off lands when they were younger — some have; most haven’t.

I know many people who wanted to write or pursue other creative endeavors when they were younger — some have; most haven’t.

Many of those who haven’t taken those trips of a lifetime or pursued their other passions are like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life: they’ve put their lives on hold to do “the right thing.” The day when they’d catch up to a dream or two never arrived because they were always too busy working.

There’s nothing wrong with doing “the right thing.” The Juggling Writer is a blog about juggling work, writing, and life. For most of us, having a day job — doing “the right thing” — is a big part of out lives and allows us to follow our dreams.

Still, there’s risk involved in what we do. We may not be heading out for 6 months to hike the entire length of the Appalachian Trail, but we will spend much more than 6 months of our lives, alone, reflecting on things and challenging ourselves to be better writers.

It comes with a certain cost; in many ways, we may not always seem like we’re in our right minds all the time. It may not be fun all the time — sometimes writing is hard and frustrating, but to not do it is to sin gravely against ourselves.

I hope everybody has a productive week!