In my mind I’m still a painter, because I painted every day for 50 years (or was it 60?). But now I write at least two hours a day, have published four books, with two in the offing, and I still don’t think of myself as a writer. To earn that title I’ll need to write stories, not just commentaries on living.

That’s too easy, it’s falling off a log. Being a writer should be hard.