Charlie Wetzel didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up. Rock star? Couldn’t play an instrument. Pro football player? No talent. Engineer? Barely passed trig. So instead he has just focused on doing the next thing. After taking a literature class, he thought, I could get a degree in this. He underestimated himself. He got a bachelor’s and master’s. Restaurant chef? Let’s do that. College instructor. Yes. Good organizer—became a department chair and then a dean. What next? Moved from New Orleans to Southern California. Sold cars for a year. Yeesch. Wrote resumes. Back to college teaching—and deaning. Got married. Became a non-fiction ghost writer. Been doing that for over twenty-five years. Moved to Georgia. Had three kids, lived in suburbia, then on acreage—found out he wasn’t a farmer—moved again. Ran a lot of miles, and races. Even a marathon. Had a hip replacement. Earned a black belt in his forties, then another in his fifties. Wrote the short film "The Candy Shop." Wrote a feature screenplay. Traveled a lot with his family. Started writing fiction. Turned sixty. He’s still searching for what’s next. Learn piano? Maybe he’ll figure it out before seventy. Maybe not.Read more Read less
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