I tell people I’m a writer because I get paid to write.
And because it’s what I love. I reckon you are what you love.
If you’re not, you should probably become it. I am taking my own advice more these days.
What I hate* right now is: working in an office. They aren’t all bad, most of us do it at some point and I’m doing it daily, so I guess I don’t despise it to the point where it’s truly unbearable, but the over-familiarity with people you’d otherwise have zero in common with but for your employer is really hammered home when you stroll through the vestigial waft of someone’s post-prandial flatus.
I have to get out of this place.
What I love about what I hate: time to think, time to read the words of my many talented friends who really are writers, time to plot and plan what comes next.
* (Some people balk at ‘hate’, usually saying something like “… oh, ‘hate’ is such a strong word.” I say: “So is ‘love’, but people throw that around like litter.”)
mood – insomniac
music – Shallow Grave - The Tallest Man On Earth (ironic, huh?)
