This is the title of an old book, published in 1949. It is a collection of essays talking about problems that face the writer. Should you write for love? Or money?
In this day in age, where everyone is trying to squeeze out every penny wherever they can, it is quite obvious the answer. We should write for love. Because there is no longer any real money in writing.
That sounds a preposterous thing to say though. No money in writing? But many writers make a living from their works! There are bloggers who earn a supplementary payment from their blogs! But alas, they are few and far, far inbetween. Not only are there a grand number of people who write, but most of them do it for nothing. They do it because they want to.
In this day of technology, the dream of being a successful writer is diminished. You write, you slave, you try your damned hardest, and when you reap your rewards, they are just pennies on the ground. In this day of technology, less people are reading books as opposed to random blog excerpts. Each post only corresponds to a small over-saturated niche of people.
Everyone is a writer. It matters not on your skill, because many, many people have writing skill nowadays. The only way I can see publishing giving more than a few dollars a month is if you are well acquainted with a large social network of people. Which makes my writings, as an introvert, basically nonexistant.
I want to be a writer for a living. But that dream is seemingly wrenched from my grasp. There are too many people in the world. Too many, for one measly writer to seem significant.
Will my dream ever become a reality? Or, paraphrasing Elizibeth Gilbert, am I going to work my whole life at this craft and nothing's ever going to come of it and I'm going to die on a scrap heap of broken dreams with my mouth filled with bitter ash of failure?