This is one reason why I love my friends: they are wise.
We writers suffer together, even though some think writing is a solitary activity … and it is at the basic putting-words-on-page-and-hoping-some-stick level … but still, we suffer together … suffering solidarity. And sometimes a friend writes something that is so true and so real that it hits home, because they’ve put into words the very things you’ve felt. Brendan did this today:
Anyway – I have written stuff for three decades now, I am unlikely to let a little thing like the prospect of a lifetime of obscurity and penury stop me now. I will arise and go now, not so much to Innisfree but to the dining room table where my laptop is. You write on the good days and you write on the lousy days. Find the next word, write it down. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
The rest lives here: http://brendandcarsonsfiction.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html
We’re all Literature’s monkeys.