I got my eyes fixed a couple months ago and my rational went like this: I've got maybe ten years left of productivity—if I'm lucky!—and I want to finally create the graphic novel I have been trying to do all my adult life. And, I know I am closer to the end than I am to the beginning.
At this point of my life, when I look for guidance from those ahead of me on the trail, it is sobering:
Recalling 50 Years As A Writer
"Exhilaration and groaning. Frustration and freedom, Inspiration and uncertainty. Abundance and emptiness. Blazing forth and muddling through. . .this day-by-day oscillating dualities that any talent withstands." Then, "Every talent has its terms—its nature, its scope, its force; also its term, a tenure, a life span—not everyone can be fruitful forever."