I am going to be a real writer someday, in the sense that I will write to feed myself. We’ve discussed this before, so it should come as no surprise to you that I have a plan. I will get short fiction published until you see fit to send me an agent. Then I will sell the novels that I’m already writing. And I will live happily ever after. And keep writing novels.
This plan has a flaw, Universe. Don’t be coy, now. We both know what I’m talking about.
ALL OF MY SHORT STORIES WANT TO BE NOVELS.
Will you let me get on with the plan, already?