tendencies of the writers and the exaggerated belief
in their own talents."
She was full of witticisms like this. After enough time
lounging in bed she would prod me into talking about
writing, often times while I was writing.
"But you're different than all those other hacks."
Really? What makes you think that?
"Well, for one you're pretty humble, secondly
you're actually talented."
I started laughing. Appeal to an artists ego is
the quickest way to gain immunity from their
mercurial temperaments.
"Why are you laughing?"
No reason.
"Well, you are good. Is there another way you
want me to prove it to you?"
I suppose there is but that would only distract me
from my writing.
She threw a pillow at me and started laughing.
It's a wonder I ever got any writing done.
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