Being a professional writer is a hard life. Producing a book, especially a long one, is a severe test of courage and endurance. For even after a successful day of writing, one must begin again the next morning, the blank sheet of paper in front of you: a daunting image to start the day, the mind empty, the brain groaning. I know. I have been at it for the best part of six long decades, and the number of books I have written is creeping up to 50. Several are over 1,000 printed pages. Think of the agony! I have no complaints, really. I have made a good living, and received more than my share of praise. But I like to mull over the special compensations which occasionally reward authors.
I am thinking particularly of those works, always short — sometimes very short — which are written on impulse, usually in record time, and which somehow hit a mark, right on target, bring unexpected fame and fortune, and live on to delight people long after the lucky author is mouldering away.
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