Today you find me on the little winding path that leads gently down through the woods to the road of full-timeness. It is very nice here. The trees are quite dense in these parts. Thus I restrict my conversation to comments about the weather.
I think I’m being followed. Little scamperings in the undergrowth. Strange whispering in the shadows. That sort of thing. I am minded of a saying by the eminent French philosopher and author Albert Camus.
Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. In fact, just bugger off and leave me alone.
OK, he didn’t actually say the last bit, but I am sure he would have were he in my shoes. No matter. I have reached the edge of the woods.
The road towards full-timeness stretches out before me. It looks never-ending. Fortunately I have a telescope. I point it towards some distant specks.
Look. It must be a full-time writer. And he’s in colour. Things are beginning to look up. This is absolutely tremendous. Wonderful.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and a voice saying ….
You don’t want to go there. You really don’t.