Carol used to write diaries for three months. The diary was made up of whining, illegible writing, and a considerable amount of profanity as teenage Carol hated her parents for reasons she forgot. It isn’t until recently that Carol discovers her interest in creative writing. Carol writes when she can’t sleep; every time she writes, she ends up not sleeping at all. For Carol, writing has always been cathartic, a way to let out what’s on her mind and resolve conflicts on paper. Carol thought being a writer is cool: if she were a writer, she could be sad and insightful all the time and maybe start smoking and sip whiskey when she composes. Recently she began to consider writing as an occupation; that’s when she realized that writing is one of the most demanding jobs in the world: there’s no vacation, not even on public holidays. As a writer, Carol has to absorb what’s around her at all times: it’s best not to miss out anything. Maybe they don’t mean anything at the moment, but at certain times, what she once ignored may strike her in the most unexpected way. That’s the beauty of writing; when you are putting your life on paper, you get answers, closures, or more confusion, or maybe something else, but they are equally rewarding. Carol used to consider her life boring: not dramatic enough, same thing every day. But as she took up writing she found that everyone, including her, has great stories to tell. So in a word, Carol still thinks being a writer is cool, but it also requires commitment and effort— Carol doesn’t want to be in a relationship right now, so she considers writing her mistress.