3. Passage 16 Many a young person tells me he wants to be a writer. I always encourage such people， but I also explain that there‘s a big difference between ―being a writer‖， and writing. In most cases these individuals are dreaming of wealth and fame， not the long hours alone at a typewriter. ―You‘ve got to want to write，‖ I say to them， ―not want to be a writer.‖ The reality is that writing is a lonely， private and poor-paying affair. For every writer kissed by fortune， there are thousands more whose longing is never rewarded. When I left a 20-year career in the U.S. Coast Guard to become a freelance writer， I had no prospects at all. What I did have was a friend who found me a place in a New York apartment building. It didn‘t even matter that it was cold and had no bathroom. I immediately bought a used manual typewriter and felt like a genuine writer. After a year or so， however， I still hadn‘t gotten a break and began to doubt myself. It was so hard to sell a story that barely made enough to eat. But I knew I wanted to write. I had dreamed about it for years. I wasn‘t going to be one of those people who die wondering – what if I would keep putting my dream to the last even though it meant living with uncertainty and fear of failure. This is the Shadowland of hope， and anyone with a dream must learn to live there. Why did the author begin to doubt himself after the first year of his writing career?