There is something dreary about wanting fiction writing to be a real job. The sense of inner purpose, so often unmentionable in a society enamored of professionalism, distinguishes a writer from a hack. Emily Dickinson didn't turn her calling into a job, and neither did Franz Kafka, or Fernando Pessoa, or Wallace Stevens, or any of the millions of writers who have never earned a penny for their thoughts. A defrocked priest forever remains a priest, and a writer--independent of publication or readership or "career"--is always a writer. Writing, after all, is something one does. A writer is something one is.
Benjamin Moser, The New York Times, January 27, 2015
Benjamin Moser, The New York Times, January 27, 2015
There's something, at least to me, about being able to call myself a writer that props up my miniscule self-esteem, even though it is based on the flimsiest of pretenses.
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