after the readings this week, which I did while doing a lot of remote department stuff, returned home and wanted not to do department stuff over weekend but also feel like I can’t put head into book and then pull it right back out again for the work week so finished up the group magic essay and sent it out yesterday and then today just rammed through the NEA application just to cross something brainlessly off the list.  one writer friend lost husband to searingly fast cancer this week and another is losing hers to horrific divorce.  my love life is good but there are external stresses– always her job and mine– who out there does not feel stomach lurch when they deal with work?  I mean job.  I saw someone in a comment stream in a little article on Salon about how writers who are financed by family might go ahead and mention that when asked “how they do it”– commenter actually said that work is only work if you don’t like it, and asserted that supply/demand line about everyone wants to do it so that’s why you don’t get paid for it.  people think this, people think this, people think this.  and then I think about the whole blooming-or-is-it-metastasizing world of academic creative writing– this generation of kids who are being told that they can just get a degree in cw and then get to do it “for a career.”  I bet half of them have that commenter for a parent.  (I know, I know, they don’t even want to be artists they want to be commenters.)

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