You get fat. That’s the worst thing. I’ve watched every single one of the writers I’ve grown up with — with a few very rare exceptions — get fat. It’s actually quite funny. Look for old videos of me. I was once a calm, skinny early 30-something and now I look like a nervous beluga. There is nothing healthy about this lifestyle. Either accept that or get out now. You can exercise but unless you’re an ectomorph or willing to run more than you write then you’re stuck. You can quit and start surfing and get skinny again,
but this requires you live in Hawaii.

You learn how to write fast. I can put up a blog post in five minutes. I’m not proud. I’ve been sprinting so long that writing anything longer than 1,000 words is an odd feeling. To be a true long-form writer you have to produce, edit, and revise for hours. I learned that blogging ruins long-form when I wrote my books, most notably Marie Antoinette’s Watch. I could not hold a thread and my writing, while dense, was imperfect. I didn’t have the discipline necessary to write long. Here’s hoping I can get it back. Treasure it if you have it, even if it won’t make you any money.

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