Never Was Much For Real Work

For most of my brief life, I've wanted to write for a living.

I've never been really all that keen on other kinds of work. Physical labour makes me grumpy and office work makes me sick. God forbid I do any heavy lifting inside an office.

I made the mistake, though, of thinking writing for a living is easy. You have the talent, so you do it, said my brain, no big deal.

Yes big deal, Brain.

I can sit in front of a desk and rattle off a page of shitty poetry or craptacular prose easy enough, but even that requires a Herculean effort (see? Look at that cliche I just used! Shame!)

So I dunno. I guess if I can't be a writer, I'll have to settle for being the world's sexiest diamond smuggler.

If I must, I must.



Yarr