At this point in my writing career, I had expected to have a career like, say, Brad Thor or Neal Stephenson or any other fiction writer who can live off his writing - and then some - would have been fine for me. Hell, by now, I'd settle for a mid-list moderately successful fiction career where I made $50,000 per year.
Yeah, I'd probably settle for less than that at this point.
But I can lay claim to having sold fiction and made some money at it, and, even odder, more unexpected and somewhat gratifying, I can lay claim to being an internationally known writer. However insignificant and tiny my share of that claim is. But it's true. For the most part, my work has sold in English speaking countries - the UK, Canada, New Zealand, Australia and, of course the USA. However, it's also sold copies in Spain, Germany and a couple of other European countries, and I think Mexico, too.
Today, we add Brasil. Or Brazil. Whichever. I know this because Amazon Brasil sent me a royalty check for a kindle sale. I don't know what I'm going to do with the 28 cents...
For the curious, I've been working of the third story of The Divine World series. I'm in chapter three or four at the moment and hoping to have the first draft done by Christmas, and the final draft out by the end of winter.
But the really exciting part of today is going to be using the palm sander to smooth the joint compound on the sheetrock I put over the hole the plumber put in the wall in the kitchen to get at the return pipe from the bathroom on the second floor.
A writer's life for me...