When we last saw Nina, she was staring white-knuckled at a blank ledger sheet, and her best friend was going to show her how to track her expenditures as she begins the start-up phase of her novelist business.

“All that red ink is going to make me puke,” Nina finally admitted to her BFF.

“That’s why you start with investment capital — to keep the red ink at bay.”

“Investment capital?” Nina frowned. “I could ask my mom to invest in me, but even I don’t know if I can sell a novel.”

“Duh.” BFF sighed. “You are going to invest in yourself.”

Nina nodded. “Yes, by writing my book.”

“And, by–?” BFF waited.

Nina blinked. “And by writing a good book? Fast?”

“By investing some upfront cash in the business. Sweat equity is good, but no startup can go completely without a little cash infusion.”

“Like for what?” Nina asked nervously, thinking that she didn’t have $10,000 to throw around.

“Like for whatever a writer needs. What is that? Paper. Printer ink. Writing classes. Writing group dues. Those kinds of things. How much do you think you can spare a week?”

Nina didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. “I can spare  one day’s worth of what I spend on a Latte. $5 a day means $20 a week.” She frowned. “That’s not much, but I’m not ready to go to an entire Latte-less week.”

“It’s better you make a reasonable financial investment, rather than pretend you can do more than you can — remember when you vowed to keep to a carb free diet?”

Nina laughed. “Yeah. That lasted for a week — right up until I craved a grilled cheese sandwich.” $20 will buy you a ream of paper and some ink, right? What else do you need right now?”

“A class. I’ve been away from school for so long. But it will take me months to save up for a class at the university. Those are at least a couple hundred bucks.”

“Can you take one from your local adult ed?”

Nina looked online, excited by the idea. “There’s one that starts next month for $25.”

“Okay then. You buy your paper and ink for $15 this month, then join that class for $25 next month. The rest of the work is sweat equity.”

“That was simple.”

BFF laughed. “That was the first step. Now write down January here.”

Nina obediently wrote down January at the top of the first ledger column.

“Write down $20 at the top and that will be your initial investment.”

Nina wrote it neatly, guessing what would come next. “And then I subtract the cost of paper and ink, right? And do the same next month with my monthly investment and expenses.”

“You’ve got it now.”

“But what if I need to buy a new printer? Or want to go to a writer’s retreat.” Nina’s eyes grew misty. “They have these fabulous writer’s retreats, where you go away and just write for a week or more at a time and they feed you, and you get to talk to other writers –”

“Whoa. How much?”

The dreamy look snapped out of Nina’s expression. “I don’t know. Probably a thousand. Or two.”

BFF closed her eyes and held up a finger. “So, do the math. 2000 / 20 = 100.” She opened her eyes. “If you don’t spend anything for 100 weeks, you can do it. So, for you? Maybe if you limit yourself to $10 a week, you can do it in 200 weeks.”

“That’s almost four years.” Nina wanted to cry. “I hope I’ve sold the darn thing by then.”

“You can always up your investment, you know.”

Nina thought about what else she’d have to give up for that kind of money. “Well, I spend about $2000 a year on my vacations. I could go to a retreat instead of on vacation.”

“Exactly. Every expense you put toward the writing, is an investment. When you sell your novel, then you’ll pay yourself back.”

Nina thought about it. “If I spend $3,000 a year on my novel, and it takes me a year to sell it, I need to make sure it sells for at least enough to pay me back and give me a profit. Many beginning novelists don’t make more than a $5,000 advance. And some make less!”

BFF nodded. “Keep that in mind when you write, and write so they give you a bigger advance.”

“I can’t control that!” Nina had read enough to know that publishers set the price.

BFF smiled. “Welcome to the world of business, Nina, where control is an illusion, planning is an exercise in fantasy, and tomorrow is definitely another day.”

Nina looked at her laptop. “I can’t write now.”

BFF closed the ledger book. “Like I said. Tomorrow is another day. Today you’ve crunched the week’s numbers. Go buy your paper and ink, write your first chapter, and forget about the ledger book until next week.”

Nina sighed. “Sometimes I hate you.”

BFF shrugged. “Get going. I want to read the book, but you have to finish it first — I always peek at the ending before I start reading.”

NEXT WEEK: What to do when the investment doesn’t pay off quickly enough?