Truly a gift and a blessing that few are able to share, I love what I do. I love painting. I love writing. I love being able to craft my ideas into experiences other people can share. I love that I get to spend all day, all night, all my life doing what I want to do. I love the total freedom.
Freedom to paint a strange abstract representation of my anger without thinking about the fact that pink, purple, and glitter might not be what other artists are using to express pent-up frustration. Freedom to write novels that don’t follow genre conventions, aren’t anywhere close to being thrillers, and which expect their readers to actually think about what they’re reading. Freedom to read dozens of traditional zombie books as “research” and then turn around and write several books that ignore tradition almost entirely; to write the zombie books I want to write.
I get stressed out about money. I worry when I don’t make enough sales. Sometimes I even let the stress and worry compromise my artistic integrity or block my ability to create freely. I don’t like business, or marketing, or ‘profit motive’, or any of those other stupid things I have to do to be able to do what I love. But still, I love what I do.