It seems that being a writer is a very boring job. Not for the writer, of course, because it’s all happening in her head, and then on her keyboard. But from the outside, it is incredibly dull.
Writer sits at her desk, typing. That’s it. Or she has her laptop on the couch or in bed, typing. That’s still it.
It’s certainly not very aerobic, except for the fingers. My fingers are in marvelous shape.
You really can’t blog about it either. “Well, today I typed a lot of words down” just doesn’t grasp a reader by the throat. Oh well. At least I’m happy.
Playing: Inner Journey from the album “Inner Peace” by Steven Halpern
white pebble 