I guess I have now been writing, if I date my writing from the first time I ever rewrote anything, for about thirty-three years. Publishing books for about twenty. Sometimes the writing is inspired or inspiring; sometimes it is destitute of anything but the need to keep working. I guess what I’m saying is that what happens to me is so variable that it would be kind of foolish to try to attach names to it. I do think, however, that just about whenever I am writing, or more accurately, whenever I have written, I feel better and more at peace as a human being. That doesn’t mean, unfortunately, that the literary product is any good.
(I love Moody’s idea of dating how long one’s been a writer by starting when one began to rewrite.)