“Doctor, I’m thinking of giving up writing.”
“How many John Grishams, Lee Childs and Lawrence Blocks can there be? The chances of making it are harder than getting into med school. Much harder!”
The psychiatrist nods.
“It’s hopeless. These guys sell millions of books. I’m in the few dozen range.”
“The whole field is bullshit. First you have to find an agent, then a publisher. Then with or without them you need a platform — a blog, Facebook, Linkedin, Twitter, and kiss-up to everyone so they’ll spend a few bucks on a book I spent years writing. Chances are they’ll hate it. Think I’m a fool for writing it, throwing away all my time and money on such a stupid dream. I am stupid for doing it.”
“But, it’s my dream right? I have a right to write. No one can take that away!”
“Hell with them if they don’t like my work! I have a right to write! You like that catchy, pithy phrase? Who cares? I like it.” A big sigh… “Wow. It looks like our time’s up. See ya next week. Thanks, Doc. Good session. A really good session… That’s why you make the big bucks.”