"Only the creative artist is truly happy." I read that in a novel some years ago and it seemed to confirm to me that I had chosen the right path: writing. I don't know anymore. Writing has given me happiness because it allows me to express something of myself, and I've had some small success. But writing has also made me feel insecure, because I just don't know how good I am and whether I can make a "career" (i.e., make enough money to live on) out of my work. If I was one of those lucky writers who had family money or an income from somewhere, I am sure that I would feel better about my writing - not so nervous about the future. It's a crossroads every artist must come to one day, and a question every artist must ask him- or herself: Do I have what it takes to make it? I'm beginning to wonder if I do.