I’m Only Really Happy When I’m Writing, Or When I’m Having Lots Of Fun With My Friends And Family.
I guess you could say I have always had a love affair with the written word. The simple, solitary act of contemplating the white expanse of the blank page, and then putting pen to paper and seeing where the words take me, is my one constant solace in an otherwise turbulent world. Yes, I must admit it: I am only truly happy when I’m writing.
Or if I’m having dinner with family and friends, or a new and interesting acquaintance I happened to meet that week and hit it off with. I’m pretty happy then, too.
But for me, it always comes back to the writing: the discipline, the stamina required, the unrelenting determination to give voice to my innermost thoughts, thoughts that illuminate the cracks and crevices of the human condition. That is my only satisfaction. That and watching a really good movie on late-night TV, like Suddenly, Last Summer.
See the full article on THE ONION’S website, I’m Only Really Happy When I’m Writing, Or When I’m Having Lots Of Fun With My Friends And Family.