Thursday, June 25, 2009


Today I got an email from my grandma: "If writing is so hard why not go lay brick"

(And I thought grandpa was the editor.)

I wrote back: "Because I'm a writer not a bricklayer."

Truth is I love writing. Especially on days like today when after four days of agonizing I have three decent paragraphs and a pretty good idea of where to go with however many graphs I have yet to write.

As Joyce Carol Oats said, the vice has loosened and I feel incredible.

I have a hunch that if I'd approached a bricklayer yesterday, when it was 105 degrees, and asked him what I thought of his job he'd say he'd rather be a writer.

1 comment:

Dan said...

Gotta agree with your Grandma. If bricklayers belly-ached about their chosen profession half as much as writers do, we would send them off to Whiner's Island and just use concrete slabs.

Sorry you had a rough time coming up with your paragraphs - I know the feeling. But I also have laid blacktop in the St. Louis summer, and I'll take the seat in front of a typewriter any day.