I'm the owner of a comic-book shop.
What the fuck am I doing?
I can almost hear the fourteen-year-old I used to be screaming: THAT WAS PLAN B!! YOU GAVE UP PRETTY FAST, ASSHOLE! I didn't give up. Not consciously, anyway. That said, I have some responsibilities and those responsibilities preclude having much time to do what I really want: write.
We'll see about that on the permanent. We'll see.