I always feel guilty when I sit down to write. “Shouldn’t you be working?” that little voice in my head says. I have to remind myself writing is work. It’s my work, and I love it so much I’m embarrassed to get paid for it. The thing about writing—or radio, for that matter—is that you’re not generally paid so much you can’t live with yourself.
The reward is in the work. And in my case, the chance to compare notes with some fascinating, fun people. Thanks to each of you, for keeping me inspired. That your stories overlapped mine, here, is a thrill.
Thanks to Dick Bolles, who taught me everything I’m still learning. To Todd Orjala, who made me glad I changed careers—and helped me find Wendy Lazear. Wendy, you packed so much encouragement into one paragraph that wanting anything else out of life seems greedy.