Feeling A Bit Under the Weather

I am tired. There I said it. I'm worn out. I'm 40, overweight, smoke two packs of cigarettes a day, and generally sleep all of about four hours a night. I hack away in the wee hours of the morning, not so much embracing my muse as I am beating her into submission. I'm pleased with the work, but some days I wonder how long I'll be able to keep it up. I'm waiting for that break... you know the one. It's the break most of us are waiting on. That letter, or email that says "Dear Mr. Freeman, we have accepted your manuscript. Here's a check for $20,000..." I long to write full time. It gnaws at me... When is it going to happen? Is it going to happen? Am I destined to keep struggling over my craft and to never reach even mid-list status? Does it even matter? I love to write. I love to tell tales. I'm good at it. At the end of the day, that should be good enough. So, bring on the dark eyes and the grumpy disposition damn it... I'm struggling for my craft. I have a supportive wife and a small fan base, and if I achieve nothing more, it has all been worth it. This goes against the grain of my normal blogs, I know. I think I might be channeling Laurell K. Hamilton :) Anyway, back to the salt mines... enough bitching for today I think... Maybe I'll send a submission into Leisure, or maybe Penguin... couldn't hurt, right?