Dig this: The so-called "writing life" is basically sitting on your ass.
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He begged their pardon, but he had forgotten his gloves, and instantly crossing the room to the writing table, he drew out a letter from under the scattered paper, placed it before Anne with eyes of glowing entreaty fixed on her for a time, and hastily collecting his gloves, was again out of the room, almost before Mrs. Musgrove was aware of his being in it: the work of an instant! ~ Jane Austen, Persuasion
Dig this: The so-called "writing life" is basically sitting on your ass.
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