I keep thinking about balance.
For me the writing life ain't this or this or even this . Writing is the temporary adrenaline thrill of a rough draft, lopsided and slightly loco, and then the hard work, the long desert slog of editing, re-writing, revising, and revising some more.
And despite all those cappuccino-sipping hipsters pecking on their Macs at Uptown and Trabant and Zeitgeist, writing occurs mostly in solitude, long hours behind a locked door, staring at a screen or a notepad, thinking and puzzling and writing.
To get at what's true means you need to stay in the locked room and get at the pain, to find that raw edge and probe it.
You know me, I try to be funny. But I'm trying harder to be true.