The writer’s life – ironic or what?

An oft expressed piece of advice for beginning (young) writers, is get out there and have a life. You can’t write anything worth reading if you don’t know anything of the ways of the world, especially people.

But then, to be a writer you need time and solitude. You need, it seems, to be able to turn completely away from that life you were urged to embrace with passion and now sit quietly on your own for hours-days on end to weave your own particular magic.

How do you reconcile your need to make a living, have relationships, even a marriage (!) with your desire to write?

Does the creative writer who is largely unpublished and therefore unpaid, spend their time in a semi-schitzophrenic state? Miserably unhappy if they can’t write: but unable to find enough time to do so; given the human need for money, love and sex, that most of us have?

Perhaps the best advice is  – if you’re after a life of uncertainty and insanity, a life where you’re never quite happy, always on the edge of financial ruin, matrimonial melt-down, or writer’s block, then be a writer!

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