Envy speaking on writing
I have two writers in front of me. They're talking to a journalist on my tv screen. I've been in the sitting room for over an hour, making coffee, watching cartoons and idling on the net. I'm a crazy pregnant girl on hormones and instead of feeling dopey all day, i'm 'quite' insomniac. Got up at 7.35 am today.

One of the writers on telly, a woman, i know as a reader (and i despise her work). The other one is a stranger to me. I'm enjoying their interview à trois because it's more like three people sharing coffees than a dense analytical talk about literature. Sidenote: Does this mean that morning television structure works better in my very simple head?.

The host asks them both about their writing habits. The man -salt and pepper hair, round glasses, calm (almost sleepy) attitude- says he works in the morning because he likes going to lunch with an eased mind. Sounds fair to me. He adds that writing one full page per day is usually good enough for him. The woman -loud type, heavily opinionated, colourful- has a confession to make. She has to write. Every day. All the time. She's an addict. A compulsive writer who is "lucky enough to get paid for that".

I stare and wonder if she's always been addicted to writing, or if this disease has developed after receiving every silly award (in cash, please) available in this country and creating bestsellers by combining what other people wrote under less marketed atmospheres.

And then i turn my eyes back to my laptop, where a dreaded deadline waits for me. I'm aware i'm not a huge fan of this woman's work, but that was pure envy pouring out of me five seconds ago. I wish i had half of her urge.