How It Works. Or Not.

If you are a diligent writer, you sit down every day (or night) at a particular time and write at least 1000 words. So says the great Ray Bradbury, who followed this practice to great success.

Great advice. If you’re the great Ray Bradbury.

Or Isaac Asimov, who wrote 500 books in his 72 years on this earth.

But if you are Mark Bruce. writer who is forced by the Universe to make his living as a lawyer, and a solo practitioner at that, the writing of 1000 words each day is a challenge.

I get to the office just before 9 a.m. I am greeted by a stack of things which need to be done. The phone starts ringing with clients, potential clients, lawyers, telemarketers, and aliens requesting clearance to land in a nearby cornfield.

Or I’m in court on a case and don’t escape the courthouse until 10:30 or later. Then there’s the after court consultation with the cleint where one has to explain what just happened, usually three or four times. And even then the client calls for further explanations later that day.

I began this small practice in 2018 after “leaving” the Placer Public Defender (which was neither public–it was a private law firm–nor much of a defender, as my attempts to vigorously litigate the cases were always shot down by my supervisor) with the idea that I would work in the morning and write my little mysteries in the afternoon.

No such luck. First of all, the calls don’t stop at noon. And if I’m to keep in business, I have to take them. Second, often my court appearances will drift into the afternoon.

Sigh.

I should complain. I have too many friends who have no profession and are, in their 60s, lost and down and out. One very highly educated friend (with both and MA and an MFA) struggles to make ends meet on $900 per month pension.

Still, I don’t think of myself as a lawyer who writes, but as a writer who has to practice law. I didn’t choose the thug life, the thug life chose me.

So now I am working diligently on the two sequels to “The Trial of Mars” for the agent, who needs them to go to publishers and say, “Look, he’s already got the next two books all but written.”

You would think the prospect of getting a great agent would inspire me. Instead, it initially terrified me. I struggled with the outliines.

But this last weekend, suddenly the clouds broke and the rains came. I have all but finished the outlinie for the next Minerva book and got some ideas for book three.

I have wanted so long to make my living as a writer. Now that there’s a good possibility that it could happen, I can’t let my muse desert me. If necessary, I will lasso her and pull her back into bed. And hope she’s giggling the whole time. There’s nothing worse than a pissed-off muse.