Being a writer gives me the perfect excuse to slob about in my pyjamas all morning. I can pretend to be bohemian. (Let’s ignore the fact that I’m writing a white paper on file servers.)
I have a big clippings file full of my work. I can actually point to the results of my labour.
I agree with Woody Allen. I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve immortality by living forever. However, there’s a chance my writing may bring me a little fame.
I ran a 65-person computer games company for ten years. The stuff many writers complain about: marketing, sales, negotiation collecting bills, admin, are all second nature to me.