This writing thing is like a whore.
She comes in the room in high heels.
She wears a short skirt, and crosses her legs.
She make sure that you see her smiling at you.
Then she asks for money.
You should be at home with your wife and children.
You should be living life, and eating hot meals.
Instead, you are in a room, at a typer.
You anguish over ideas, to romance your readers.
It's an exercise in futility, at best.
Yet it is passionate, dangerous, and sinful.
You are responsible for your words.
A writer often puts life on hold, to live in fantasy.
He makes excuses not to go to church, balls games,
family parties, and vacations, so he can be with his mistress.
The family suffers, the coffers aren't filled,
and the verse still isn't good enough.
After the orgasm, the writer doubts himself.
Sometimes he is ashamed.
He wonders when he will be paid, for his whoring.
Yeah, we are all whores.
Writers are two bit whores waiting for a pay-off.
If you want to be a writer, don't expect a pay-off.
Just do it, because you love it.
It will kick you in the ass, if you have delusions of grandeur.
It will kick you in the ass, if you don't have delusions of grandeur.
Writing is a cruel mistress.
She fucks with my head every day.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
I couldn't have it any other way.
I am owned by the pen.