The image of a writer is often portrayed as a hard-drinking, hard-living, unhappy tormented soul. When I’m distressed, I can’t write. If I’m sad, I can’t write. If I have a hangover, I can’t write. When life is good, I can throw down 10,000 well-writen words–at least they feel that way at the time. So, does that mean I’m not a writer? I wonder about other writers.
On another note:
I had a great turnout at my book reading, Q&A, and signing! The very first event I had of this nature felt intimidating, but as I get experience with it, I’m enjoying them. I spend months and months on a novel and to have peeps enjoy them is heartening.
(For more about writers, go to: “What Makes writers Write?”)