Random Thoughts on Writing
Writing is like a sickness. Some people, its genetic, terminal, they're taking it to the grave and most likely it'll be the death of them. Poor sons of bitches, they never saw it coming.
Then there's the ones who get it like a cold. And even then you can get it real bad. Tears you up inside and kicks your guts in. But one day, you wake up and it is gone. They knew that was coming, thought it never would, but they knew it.
Lastly, there are the ones who get a cold and it splits, but like hypochondriacs, they refuse to admit it. They think they're sick all the time. They're inventing illnesses. But everyone else knows it just ain't so. Ninety-nine percent of the people who put words on paper are like this. God knows they think they got it, but baby, they don't.