I listened to an actress talking about her work yesterday. She is well-known form a soap, which she ahs now left and is currently working in pantomime. She has also just finished filming. She played a dark character in that. So, she is herself, a fairy godmother, a criminal and has lived in the backstreets of Salford.
It strikes me that life can be like that for writers as well. What we actually do, probably, is sit for ours on end at a desk possibly tapping away on to a computer keyboard. Our imagination is not confined, though. I personally have been to magic realms, visited oterh planets, survived as a German Jewess in the 1940s, learnt to sail, and coped with the death of a young friend and experienced coma and epilepsy. All from the comfort of a life with a writing-related day job.
That is something else we share with our acting friends: we are more out of work than in it, but our imagination is never deprived.
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