More than likely I painted myself into a corner and, instead of being wise and retracing my steps in order to find the correct route, I worked myself into a lather trying to figure out how not to get footprints on the wet paint. Well, not really “worked.” I’m getting tired of people who say that writing is such hard work.  It’s great fun. Work involves callouses, pained arches, cuts, abrasions, and so on. If writing was (or were–which of these verbs is correct?) so much work, only masochists would be handwriting... -from George Singleton's  Kenyon Review Conversation