We have not only the “right to write,” but the responsibility. What else is so permanent a snapshot of the mind, save writing? However, writing doesn’t pay the bills when we start out (and maybe never). Barring lottery winners, one must make a living. The tightrope is to figure out how to make a living on writing. I teach writing, which I LOVE. My hope is one day to make money punching away at these keys, lost in a world of my own creation.
I am basically an angry person.
To be clear when I say ‘angry’ I mean the buttoned-up version that’s woven into the tweed fabric of an Englishman of my age. I’d never actually show my anger, I couldn’t punch a face, complain in a restaurant or even wag an accusatory finger…no, I’m angry in the way that means I smile as my blood pressure rises and my chance of a heart attack increases year on year.
Anything can set me off. The national shame that is Brexit, the international injustice of Yemen, cats looking at me in a funny way….pretty much anything can be a trigger.
This week it was a twitter conversation (is that what you call a string of tweets) with the author Mary Carter last week (@mjcarterauthor).
She was saying that she resented having her writing branded as a frivolous hobby…. that she had been told to get…
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