At Week’s End

If you’re a singer you lose your voice. A baseball player loses his arm. A writer gets more knowledge, and if he’s good, the older he gets, the better he writes.

American crime novelist, Mickey Spillane (Frank Morrison Spillane) was born on this day in 1918 (died 2006).

And so you see why I never pursued a career in professional baseball…among other reasons.

Mug Shots
(click the pic)

I’ve thought about this writing thing. I’ve written before how I’d like to retire from the day job and write full time.

I’ve also written recently that the retirement date is further in the distance that I would like.

But, it’s there.

And, the thing is, even though I’ll leave the day job, I don’t intend to stop working, so I’ll be writing as long as my arthritic fingers let me type…or as long as I can still see the screen…or…well, you get the idea.

I plan to keep writing, and stay involved in theater as long as I can.

If a day comes when I can leave the day job and spend more time doing both of those things, then so much more the better.

But as I keep writing, as I keep acting, I know that I’ll become better at both.

I’m not the porch on the rocking chair type. Never mind that I don’t have a porch large enough for a rocking chair.

I’m also not the golfing type.

My retirement will likely look different than yours.

But, it’s not looking like anything any time soon.

So, we keep working. We keep scheduling. We keep juggling.

Here we are at the weekend. I’ve already told you how full mine will be.

But, I’ll be back Monday.

I hope you will too.


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