Retirement?

When I’m asked if I’m retired, the question always throws me. Retire from what? It’s not like I spent forty years in a nine to five office; I was a freelance writer, for heaven’s sake. I was lucky to dredge up twenty five hours of work a week. 

In fact, though, I loved what I did. But after somewhere north of thirty years cranking out magazine articles, ad copy, spice bottle labels, catalog boilerplate, and every other conceivable writing gig I could scrape up to keep the wolf from the door, it was time for a change. 

Like every writer I’ve ever met, I’ve been a reader for as long as I can remember. I loved everything about books – the way they smelled, the anticipation of beginning a new story by an unknown writer. Some books, like Moby Dick, had woodcut illustrations at the start of each chapter. I loved those. Other writers finessed their words like cellists finesse their music. 

I’d been writing fiction, on and off, for years. I’d write a novel, send it to every publisher in the known universe, have it rejected by same, and then, licking my wounds, try again a few years later. Finally, a couple of years ago, I published my first novel, Leaves On Frozen Ground. (Guernica Editions, Amazon) I’ve got another one on deck and a third building momentum in my head. 

So when people ask me if I’m retired, I have to think about how I want to answer. Switching from magazine work to fiction is a lateral move in every respect but one: I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. 

And that beats the old nine to five any day.

My debut novel Leaves on Frozen Ground is now available at Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/leaves-on-frozen-ground-dave-carty/1131513291?ean=9781771833455