I’m afraid the life of a writer (especially an unpublished one) involves a lot of sitting around thinking, and when that proves to be too much, sitting around typing. I am fond of my lifestyle, I’m not complaining, it’s just that whenever people ask me, “Whatchya been up to?” I don’t have much of a comeback.
“Eeegh, thinking a lot. And writing that down. And thinking about what I wrote. And changing it. And thinking more. It’s a cycle.”
“Yeah, what else you been up to?”
“Not much.”
“It’s been five years since I last saw you.”
“I know.”
“Sounds hideously boring.”
“As a topic of conversation, it is. But, boy, you strap yourself into that desk chair and stare at that monitor for thirteen hours, ya know, and you get that twitch in the eye, and that snear, and things really happen.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Sometimes!”
I know, it isn’t for everyone.
You know for years I hesitated to call myself a "writer"...it felt like being an unpublished writer was like claiming to be a rock star at the Karaoke bar. But I have been doing it since I could form a sentence. If that doesn't make me a writer nothing will...Nope it isn't for everyone, but I would be a shell of a person without it. Even if I am only talking to myself in these strangely typed musings...
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