If I do go digital publishing with my religious writings, I’d have a fairly easy start-up. I have written enough sermons and commentaries over the past 18 months or so that I could think of six or seven titles I could develop and release over the next year, just by starting with material I’ve already researched and gathered in that time.

With generous 35-70 percent royalties being paid on digital book sales through these programs, I could easily imagine building enough of a nest-egg to help build and launch my own congregation, when the time comes that God gives me the go-ahead on that front. It’s an exciting opportunity and still early enough to get in on that I could be successful at it, if I get my name out there soon.

This merits deep consideration; at least as careful as one invests in selecting the best prenatal vitamins.

One of the skills one must possess to have fun while writing fiction is finding ways to undercut dour seriousness. While I’m not saying everyone should put on clown makeup, I am advocating coming up with character-driven ways to make a situation interesting.

Let’s say someone is being questions by a Sheriff about a murder. Usually such men are dour and serious. It’s a tool used to intimidate the truth out of suspects. But what if you had a Sheriff trying to bottle-feed a baby while questioning a suspect?

It sounds silly, but if your Sheriff happens to be keeping a secret that his wife has left him and his newborn son? Well, then it’s not as silly. It’s amusing, but there’s some pathos to it.

That’s what I’m shooting for, rather than just tossing in anything I can think of, including the copper kitchen sinks.

Some people would rather blather on and on about free term life insurance rates than tackle a novel, and yet strangely most people imagine that they have at least one good novel in them.

This ambivalence about the task of writing ultimately has to be set aside if one is to become a successful writer. The first problem can lead to progress-crippling procrastination and few things will cut a writing career short more quickly than procrastination.

The second state of mind breeds overconfidence; believe me, writing is both a job and a craft and the complete novice cannot just one day fire up MS Word and, over the course of a few months, whip out an outstanding novel that makes them millions.

Even “overnight success stories” in writing emerge out of a background of years of reading great examples of effective storytelling, and then doing a lot of writing, before one’s results can come anywhere close to being successful.

Unless, of course, you’re a celebrity, in which case a book contract can often be handed to you even if you can’t form complete, coherent thoughts. Isn’t that right, Paris Hilton?

One of the things I find some writers struggle with is a fear of creating characters who are “too weird” to be “believable.” Whenever I hear this, I love to have them sit down and watch the two-hour movie debut of the old and short-lived ABC TV mystery, Twin Peaks.

There’s no one weirder than that cast of characters, in general. And of them, few are odder ducks than the Log Lady. And yet, over 15 years after it went off the air, it is characters like the Log Lady who I still remember most clearly from that show. She’s indelibly etched into my computer memory. And it wasn’t until deep into the series that you were told why she talked to the log she always carried around; her backstory, once revealed, made her all the more memorable.

So there’s two lessons to be learned: don’t be afraid to let at least some of your characters be so weird that you begin to wonder if they’re realistic. They don’t have to be, not completely. They just have to be sympathetic in the long run.

And the other lesson is: don’t reveal backstory too soon or two completely. If we’d known all there was to know about the Log Lady in that first two hours of Twin Peaks, she wouldn’t have been nearly as fascinating as the mystery of her made her.

Sometimes an effective strategy to get more work done is to dovetail various efforts in different ways to complete more than one assignment. For example, in the past year I’ve put a lot of time into researching Jack the Ripper and other modern serial murderers, and it’s paid off in a published article in Ripper Notes #28 and an editor who is hoping I’ll submit more material in the near future.

That’s great, but it’s only one opportunity. In my previous post, I stated how hard it is to get started on the more creative writing style of opportunities coming my way. Perhaps dovetailing would work here. For example, I could leverage my new researched insight into serial killers into my graphic novel.

Or, more realistically, I could write a play about the Whitechapel Murders; Jack the Ripper has often made terrific fodder for stage plays, but few have ever stayed true to the crimes themselves, as they happened. Perhaps that’s my opportunity.

That kind of brainstorming can be more effective than a colon cleanser in clearing out the cobwebs and moving forward in writing pursuits with new energy and commitment.

Ever heard of Car Angel?

Well, about 2.4 million kids know of their work. The nonprofit group looks for car donations that they can either fix up and sell, or sell as-is. It’s a tax write-off for the people who make the donation, and all proceeds get funneled into a video outreach to at-risk kids and teens.

The videos in question address issues at-risk kids and teens face, and offer advice on how to improve their situation. Without the car donations, the funds needed to make and distribute these videos simply wouldn’t be there.

Some outreaches may have questionable value in terms of helping the kids they reach, but Car Angel isn’t one of them; all proceeds go directly to video production and distribution costs and with 2.4 million kids reached so far, they must be doing something right. Worth a look, if you have an old heap sitting around gather rust.

It used to be that if you were a writer, one thing you didn’t have to worry about was outdoor lighting. Now, with the world turning increasingly from laptops, palmtops and even keyboard-equipped cell phones as tools to express themselves creatively, writers are no longer limited to being strictly “indoors” people when they practice their craft.

Of course, this shift simply allows us creative types to enjoy something folks like Henry Thoreau enjoyed a couple hundred years ago, which is the freedom to write about anything wherever he was. Of course, H.D. never had to worry about running low on batteries with his high-tech tools of trade: a pencil and a pad of paper.

Writing content under deadline is one of the biggest challenges a writer can face. It’s also one of the most important for working writers.

John Irving, for example, can write beautiful prose, wonderful novels that sing of a mastery of the English language. But he completes perhaps one novel every three to seven years; he’d never last in the world of television, where the average staff writer has to complete perhaps four or five one-hour episodes as part of a 22-episode series, on a show’s writing staff, each season. Most of these scripts have to be completed in a matter of a week for a first draft, and in a matter of hours for successive rewrites.

Irving would never survive.

And becoming John Irving isn’t easy; it takes a lot of hard work and a minor miracle or two to find publishers willing to publish your work these days, let alone wait such long stretches between masterpieces.

Far more common is the work of James Patterson; his novels may not be the literary masterpieces Irving produces, but he can pump them out at a rate of three to five a year. Guess who would have a better chance of working and succeeding in Hollywood?

Guess that’s why this fall’s TV schedule does feature a Woman’s Murder Club series, but no show based on “The World According to Garp.”

Writing jobs are rare enough as it is, but even those jobs that are out there are becoming less and less about the skill of crafting compelling dialog, storylines, characters and scenes, and, increasingly, more about specialist knowledge. The term “writer” is losing its meaning.

For example, I recently interviewed with an employer where the job title listed was “Web writer.” Once the details emerged in the interview, it became apparent what they were really looking for was a Web page designer, more than a writer. The interviewer focused more on whether I was familiar with database-Web page integration, rather than whether I had solid interviewing skills and could craft a compelling report on later school starting times.

Or take some of the scriptwriting jobs in Hollywood. Can it honestly be said that the average writer could jump into the writing pool at CSI or House and write a competent episode without a degree in forensics or medicine? Shows are way more about tech-talk than they are character, these days. And really, what does the average writer know about DNA testing services, other than what they can find out on the Web or remember from the O.J. trial? Not much, in most cases.

I miss the days when being a writer meant understanding the human heart, more than understanding the operational procedures of open-heart surgery.

The right furniture can make the task of writing much less of a task. In fact, next to a PC and word processor, I’d say that a comfortable chair is probably one of the most essential tools an aspiring writer can invest in.

In my own experience, my best writing came when I owned a plush leather office chair in my home office. I was comfortable and able to think without distraction. When that broke down and I had to make due with a metal folding chair for a while, I was less productive.

So figure out what type of chair suits you best and allows for the greatest amount of productivity. Then go to several furniture stores, or department stores, and look at everything from office furniture to living room furniture to kids furniture, and find the best place for you to sit while creating.

You might be surprised just how much it helps!

The recent announcement that The O.C. was canceled got me thinking. It was never a show I watched, but I was aware of it. It debuted right around the time Dawson’s Creek was ending and seemed to fill that gap for a teen- to young adult-oriented prime time soap. I just never jumped on board.

However, the show was the hottest thing going for at least two years out of its four-year run. The show probably jumped the shark earlier than most – in its third season. So at least it’s not grossly outlasting its appeal, like Happy Days, ER, and notable others.

But what must it be like for the show’s creator and main writer? The O.C. was touted as a “fresh, new show” by a “hot, new creator.” So what’s it like to see the show that launched your career go away so soon? I mean, in these days of DVD collections, four seasons is such a middle ground. Longer than those one- or two-season wonders, but not substantial enough to merit a solid collection, like seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or eight seasons of Charmed.

What’s that like? I can’t say that I have any idea. But it must be strange. Of course, other creators have prospered despite early exits for their freshmen shows. Most notably, J.J. Abrams, who started his pre-LOST career with four seasons of Felicity on The WB.

Now, ultimately, I’m not overly concerned for The O.C. creator Josh Schwartz. I’m sure he’s sitting in his LA mansion, working hard on his next pitch in the comfort of posh furniture like Coaster Furniture makes, enjoying the run he had.

But still…

Writing for pay is the dream of nearly every writer. But actually doing it is a completely different reality than dreaming about it. Rarely does the reality measure up to aspirations – unless, perhaps, you’re Stephen King or James Patterson.

For most of us, though, real-world writing jobs feel more like jobs than they do dreams-come-true. While real-world writing jobs don’t exactly require First Aid kits, you sometimes may feel like they do.

I’ve been blessed to have many jobs that involve writing. Not all of them have been creatively satisfying, though. Case in point? Need an example? Okay.

I once worked a writing job for a fellow in the industrial weights and measures biz. I created both a product catalog in print, and a Web site for him. Plenty of “writing” involved. Zero creativity. Put it paid the bills for a while. I appreciated the experience. But not exactly the same as writing a screenplay or a novel, eh?

I’ve done a lot of time in journalism, as well. There’s a bit of room for creativity in feature writing and sports, but news is fairly straightforward if you do it right. There is some great satisfaction to be had in working 35 of out 48 hours to compose 15-20 stories and put a weekly issue to bed, but it’s not so much a creative rush as it is the sort of high a game-coder gets from finally debugging his last bit of code and creating a final build. It’s a post-adrenaline rush high, with a huge crash after.

I’m not putting down any of these writing jobs, but I am saying they’re not exactly what one envisions when they’re in high school dreaming of being a writer. Fair warning, kids: being a writer IS work.