Yesterday at work I had to run an errand with one of my workmates. As we walked down the street we made random polite co-worker small talk. The topic got onto winning tattslotto. My co-worker told me if she won the big one she would quit work and become a writer.
My blood boiled. Oh yes, we could all become amazingly wonderful writers at the drop of a hat so long as we had enough money to chuck at it. We could sit around in our pink maribou feather trimmed negligees dictating realms of prose to a long suffering personal assistant while eating chocs then whipping out for an afternoon of lunch and shopping. What a jolly lark!
Meanwhile there is no point in ever trying because, with everyday life interfering, you never have time to write a damn thing. After all there is so much good reality television to watch.