But someone's gotta do it...And by it I mean the human anathema known as writing. You sit hunched over your work table/computer screen for interminable hours, debating the use of a single verb in a sentence...scribbling and scratching out....squinting over your own words, muttering to yourself like an escapee from Bedlam...and after eons of back breaking, hair receding, skin color degrading work, you post out the few miserable chapters that hae taken all of your efforts and are now subject to the fickle moods of readers/ critics/reviewers- most of whom do not even know the right way to hold a pen or the difference between a protagonist and antagonist...and all for what?
Yes this is me glorifying the ardors of being a writer.... question
"The center cannot hold...mere anarchy is loosed upon the..." WB Yeats
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