The first time I heard another writer call what she was doing work, I stared at her. She was one of my best friends and actually the one who had made me start my first novel. Jean Walton was the one who introduced me to a writing group called NOLA, North Louisiana Authors, a Romance Writers Association chapter.

I asked Jean how indulging in my passion for building stories might be called work. She replied building usually involves work, that is, if the one who is involved in building is not some lazy bum who only puts in a lick or two when then foreman isn’t looking.

Well okay. Maybe writing can be called work.

But at times it can also be called joy. It can be called torture. Joy, even transcendent joy, when I might read over something I had written the day before and could not believe or even remember that I had written it. Torture if instead, I reviewed the last page I had written the day before and found it was pure crap.

So I seem to have a love/hate relationship with my chosen profession. Is your chosen profession writing? Are you a wanna be writer? Or, are you a faithful reader.

Just remember writing is joy. Writing is torture. Writing is work. Treat it with the respect it deserves.

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