When I was about fifteen years old, I read Larry Bird’s biography. I forget the name, but I remember it said that he started “hitting his shots” when he was fourteen…As a bench-ridden basketball player, that made me start practicing alone in a neighbors driveway everyday for the next year.

But I never did master the jumpshot.

I realized though, that we read biographies of people we admire to find similarities in our own lives. To find some parallels, no matter how small, to give us confidence to keep going. To keep pursuing those dreams. To find that our heroes were humans.

On the recommendation of a friend, I’ve been reading Savage Art – the biography of Jim Thompson. Like me, he supported his family by writing whatever he can, whenever he can, for whoever he can. A man who became a literary whore to put food on the table. His fiction, while incredibly brilliant, never sold enough to pay the bankers and the grocers — until he was dead of course.

We pay our bills by tapping that keyboard.  And in our spare time we escape to a hotel room or garage to work on the fiction and novels and artistry that sustain us. Our mental soul.  Capturing those fleeting moments of inspiration whenever we can.

I thought about that tonight. Sitting there in my recliner as my two older girls danced around the room after dinner.  Pretending they were ice skating across the hardwood in their pink plush slippers. Ignorant to my turmoil and trials –  how I didn’t know if a check would be in the mail next week. If someone might want an article or press release or story written. If I might actually get paid for the work. Argh, the uncertainty and anxiety!

I’ve borrowed from family. I’ve eaten from restaurant trash. I’ve washed and pawned and pulled weeds for a jug of milk.

Yet I’ve also splurged after a payday. Bought imported cheese and fresh flanks of salmon. Pretty pink dolls and new crayons for the girls…a refreshing change from the second-hand store.

Its foreign to have money. So maybe that’s why I blow it so fast.

Reading Thompon’s biography was not a validation, or even inspiration. It was a realization that many artists go through the same thing. That we all find our ways to provide. We all take our chances. We all figure out a way to make it work!

And its good to read about Jim selling his dry and drab non-fiction. Like an impressionist who slaps coats of latex on kitchens and living rooms so he can buy new oils. Thompson  utilized his talent to make money, rather than some damn warehouse job or teaching gig.

At the same time, who are we to put a dream ahead of our children’s security? How selfish…How selfish!!!!!!

But its all I know how to do. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Its hard.  I could easily sit in a cubicle all day writing commercials. I could teach high-school kids how to frame a god-damned story. But this is what I’m doing. Like so many others have. And hopefully, hopefully! It will pay off.

I’ll keep on going, even though the odds are against me…Cause I’m no Jim Thompson.

But at least I have a good life insurance policy.