So, we are writers. Or we try to convince ourselves we are writers; all the while trying to convince ourselves to write more/better. And for all the struggle and troubles, only a few half-decent words leak their way onto a page. While someone with no interest in "becoming a writer" can easily jot down pages and pages. Life itself seems to be set against writers. The older I get, the more "distractions" I have in life and the less time I have to write. Sometimes it really is such a struggle that I wonder why I do it.
But I also wonder... perhaps being a writer is partly the struggle, and to struggle to write is more of what makes us writers and unites us a writers than anything else.
It was an interesting thought- that the struggle itself is who we are (writers). It defines us. Like the saying goes, it's not the destination, but the journey...
What do you think?
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