Letter: ‘Why Do You Write?’
I have been impatient at work for some time, and I work for myself. I would go to my office regularly, but when I arrived there, I would feel rushed to get my tasks of the day done, but the list was interminable, so I would rush even more, to no relief.
I had been rushing because I wanted to write. I was unhappy because I told myself that writing was a pleasure, and for some reason I had gotten it into my head that pleasures, like desserts, always come at the end of a meal.