Yeah. Um. I didn't realize that so many people were going to read that blog, almost as many as those who read my short blog about Dave telling Neil Gaiman that my son wanted to punch him in the face.
Some of you all have been wondering which writer I'm pointing out. I'm not singling anyone out. That's the point. If there were just one, it'd be a quirk of character, not an accumulation of weariness.
The letter was a riff. I woke up one morning a little fired up. I've gotten some very sweet emails about the piece. Maybe I vented for some others. But, all in all, I feel like I should say that writers are just trying to get across town like everyone else. We haul with us all our hope, fear, desperation, wanting ... I think we're all trying, in our own ways. We're just trying -- at all of it.