So I get turned onto a David Rafoff YouTube piece. About 3 minutes. Something like “Why I Write (And Why It Just Gets Harder”). He’s a smart guy, easy to listen to, and he has a simile about the writing process that is not for the squeamish.
This is maybe the 3rd or 4th thing I’ve read/heard recently about how hard it is to write. The torture of it. And it never gets any better. Only worse.
Really, fellas. Is it that bad? Some interviewer asked me once how I faced that cold, white, blank page. I told him it was a piece of paper, not an ice floe.
Am I the only writer who feels lucky to be able to get up in the morning and write something that might or might not be awful?
I’m often ask to give advice to young writers and I’m going to start saying, “Stay away from sourpusses.”
I’ve been told I don’t know what it’s like. How can I not know what it’s like to write; I’ve been doing it for more than 40 years. Sure, it can be disappointing and of course it can be frustrating. But is it really that hard? Butt in the chair, fingers to the keyboard/pen to paper. End of story.
No wonder I like to run with horse-players. When their 6-1 shot runs out of the money, they bitch once and turn the page. And when they win, they buy drinks.