Don’t look now but 2014 is drawing to a close.

With the slipping in

                                    of a crisp cold

                                                               comes the inevitable end

                                                                                                             of another year… 

Is the start of a new year always a mixture of fear and hope? The excitement over the potential the new year will show you that you possess, tinged with the sadness over what is permanently gone, the time lost…

It is for me, though I admit I will not be overly sad to see 2014 leave. Since the birth of my child, there has been a constant struggle between my love of writing and need to make a living.

When one has purposefully avoided a “career” over the desire to write, it can be difficult to  financially survive.

Gone are the days of wonderful sponsors who paid artists to do what they felt they did best. Even that naughty one who told Anais, less poetry, more sex, when she wrote paid erotica to fund her writitng and that of her lover, Henry Miller is long gone.

Like all years drawn to a close, the end of 2014 brings more uncertainty, but for writers, always the desire to write—the need to be a writer, to write, to write, to write.

For you fellow writers, I hope the start of each new year brings that same determination, imagination, and success. Yeah, success. Lots of it.