One of my most irritating character traits is the propensity to push people about writing. You may call me the writing nudge, and I mean nudge in the Yiddish-y sense, pronounced “noodge,” and meaning total fucking pain in the ass. But I don’t ask you if you’re writing, who will ask? Then you’ll think not writing is OK, and it is not. Not writing is definitely not OK.
And I’m not terribly nice about it either. It’s not that I’m spiteful—I’m pretty sure people know I’m badgering them because I love them and want them to write and be happy, or at least write—but I’m not the hand-on-the-shoulder, gentle-cup-of-tea, soulful-gaze “How is your writing, my dear?” type either. And insult to injury I am a total hypocrite. At least I’ve been writing these past few months, but I don’t have kids, or a commute, or any of the other conventional
barriers excuses for not writing.
I was harassing a former student/current friend about writing and right about the time I was going to apologize for being an ass she texted me “You should ask me about writing more often. It makes me write.” I am your writing conscience, your nudge, your kick in the ass. Try to stop me, bwahahahahaha!
Now get the fuck off the Internet, and write.