I just read another one of Cormac McCarthy’s cryptic writing comments: “I hear people talking about going on a vacation or something and I think, what is that about? I have no desire to go on a trip. My perfect day is sitting in a room with some blank paper. That’s heaven. That’s gold and anything else is just a waste of time.”
That’s it for me, too. That’s the worthwhile part: the act of writing. Everything else is just aftermath, for better or worse.
Malcolm