First she hunts around the apartment for something else to do. God forbid she should call herself a writer and actually write. After a few cups of coffee and a trip around the corner to Bagel Doctor (that’s not a joke, it’s the name of her favourite, and the nearest, bagel store), she settles down in front of her bruised-yet-still-booting Compaq Mini and waits for inspiration to strike gold in the recesses of her mined-out noggin.
When the first word doesn’t miraculously write itself she heads on out to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/where she will usually find an interesting writing prompt or challenge to set the wheels of genius in motion. After writing, according to her, the best prose and poetry ever, she proceeds to sit around for the rest of the day, pressing the refresh button on her stats to see who has visited, commented on, or at least liked her work. She can’t help feeling a little dirty for being such a stats whore, but what’s the use of writing if no one reads it?
When she’s not basking in her own glory or gulping down bagels and coffee she reads other people’s blogs. Recently she read a post by a fellow blogger, and the question he posed was, Why do we write?
Why does she write? Perhaps it’s the only way she can express herself freely without being interrupted by something or someone more important. Perhaps it helps her to feel relevant. Perhaps it gives her the voice she knows she has but can’t use otherwise.
Whatever the reason, if you peer through her window after a working day or on the weekend you can see her blogging around like she owns the place. And maybe one day she will.
The blogger who wrote about writing can be found here: http://cristianmihai.net/2012/11/30/what-we-write-about-tells-us-who-we-are/