This is what I hear, although I don’t believe it: I write fiction. I am always in my room. I have no friends. I don’t go anywhere. I barely take time to eat and sleep because, well, I write fiction. Tell that to Mark Twain, who was a mighty good billiard player. Tell that to Charles Dickens, who did amateur theatrics and toured the world, as did Mark Twain. Of course I have stretched things a bit on my generalized portrait of fiction writers, for satiric humorous purposes, and of course it’s a generalization that does not apply to all, but you get my drift, and it does have a grain of truth.
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