Don’t decide you’re going to make dance the center of your life when you hate bodily movement. Don’t front to say “I’m gonna churn out X-amount of novels” when you loathe writing and despise reading. Don’t lie to yourself and say you’re gonna be a gazillionaire when you’re not willing to take financial responsibility and change the way you think and do things.
The hu$tle has to propel you more than the dollar signs do. It has to get you out of bed when you’d rather remain knocked the fuqq out. It’s gotta make you stay up late sometimes when you really should be resting. Like love, it should make little sense to the outside viewer, yet propel you beyond your known limits. It’s gotta be like blood flowing through your veins. If I cut you, would you bleed interesting words, catchy phrases, technicolor dreams, and twisted ideas? If not, you probably shouldn’t be calling yourself a writer!