This morning, I stick in the word "writing" and "writer" wherever I please, and come up with this, from Le Carré's A Most Wanted Man:
The staple of your writer's life . . . was not, as one might reasonably expect, cash . . . It was cock-up. It was the persistent, he would go so far as to say the permanent sound, not to put too fine an edge on it, of excrement hitting your proverbial fan. So, if you don't happen to like living in a state of unremitting siege, the odds were that writing wasn't for you.
Tee hee.
The words I replaced "writing" with?
"Private banking."
But isn't that what writing is?
Have fun this week squirreling your work into every nook and cranny.
--MD
The staple of your writer's life . . . was not, as one might reasonably expect, cash . . . It was cock-up. It was the persistent, he would go so far as to say the permanent sound, not to put too fine an edge on it, of excrement hitting your proverbial fan. So, if you don't happen to like living in a state of unremitting siege, the odds were that writing wasn't for you.
Tee hee.
The words I replaced "writing" with?
"Private banking."
But isn't that what writing is?
Have fun this week squirreling your work into every nook and cranny.
--MD
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