My dream was to write one book. A real, published book. For years, that was my vision of success.
It took a long apprenticeship, but it happened. I sold my first book at age 25. And then, almost immediately, it became clear in my mind that — you know what? — real success is writing a bestselling book. Before I could pin up the first newspaper clipping about my debut title, I started writing a proposal for my next one.
I wanted to be a millionaire. Did it. I wanted to buy my own home. Did that, too. Then, when I found my dream house, I remember thinking, “If I can just get this, I’ll have everything I want.” A year later, I was ripping out the floors and remodeling the whole thing because I craved something better.
Oh, and that one book spiraled into more than one book a year. My ninth, Stillness Is the Key, is out next week, and now I’m working on my tenth.
Looking back, it’s hard to say whether the proper response to all this is pride or exhaustion.
More here – Forge
And if you’re after a template so you can write your own short story, click here.
Maybe it is neither. Maybe it just “is”. Pretty much like the outcomes of individual trades. These days I often hearken to the equanimity in the parable of the Chinese Farmer. And, of course, the power of now.