I really thought I could do it, be a seller of fire safety products. I mean, saving lives sure beats selling clothes.

But you know what? People don't want to know that they are at risk for a fire. People think it won't happen to them. They don't welcome the knowledge that, when a home fire starts, you have approximately two minutes to get out of the house safely before a thick, oily, black layer of smoke fills the rooms from ceiling to about four feet from the floor. The fire department calls it the Blanket of Death. You stand up in that, and your lungs shrink to the size of walnuts in seconds and you're gone.

Yeah. In general, people don't like to think about the possibilities of fire. And when I realized that I'd be doing nothing but training people, exhaustively, the way I was being trained...well, if I'm going to put in 80 hour weeks, I'd rather focus on my writing.

So while I learned a hell of a lot in the past two and a half weeks, I also learned that it's not for me. But I'm braver, stronger now than I was then. I relearned the F.E.A.R. acronym - Fear is just False Expectations Appearing Real - and am willing to take the chances, write the book, query the agents.

Because one thing hasn't changed - I'm still in the back half of my life, and time is not my friend. So I'll sell clothes to people who come to me, collect my paycheck, and write when I'm not at the store.

Full speed ahead.