S: The writing life is fickle. A writer writes or spends time thinking about writing or thinking
about not writing or writing a grocery list or a letter, or the writer eats or bathes or takes a
walk or has a sandwich or goes potty. All sorts of things that aren't writing what a writer should
write. That, sadly, is a writer's life. Lonely. Sad. Empty. Poor. Writing is hard, it makes a
writer look deep into things that matter, don't matter, will matter and never mattered. It causes
anxiety, nausea, dizziness, diarrhea, dysentery, all sorts of D-letter things. You lose when you
write; you lose lovers, friends, family, pets, gloves, car keys, courage, cooking tips and more.
When you aren't writing you're walking, pacing, trotting, sprinting, crawling. Luck is nowhere
to be found. It's a tarnished mistress, a reckless whore, a hellish harlot, a slut, a slime, a
concubine, a cheap waitress with dreams of..."
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