“I don’t think I could be a writer,” my Youngest said to me the other day.

My motherly instincts immediately went on the alert at the possibility that my offspring was putting herself down. “Oh, I think you’d be a fine writer!” I gushed.

“No,” said the child. “I can’t type fast.”

I blinked. “Writers do more than type, you know.”

“You don’t.”

The encouraging smile on my face may have slipped a bit. “I’m doing more than typing when I’m at my computer. I’m—”

“That’s right!” exclaimed Youngest in the voice of discovery. “Sometimes you stare into space!”

Sadly, the creative process is often misunderstood, and not just by my too-astute child.

“But where do your ideas come from?” intelligent, educated people cry, as if there was discount store for writing ideas that no one had ever told them about. The fact is that writers make things up for a living. And what’s worse, they often do it in their pajamas.

This sometimes leads to Career Envy. “Weren’t you going to do some work today?” my husband will ask on his way out the door, juggling a laptop, briefcase, and files.

“I am working,” I will reply with great dignity.

“You’re sitting in your nightshirt, holding a cold cup of coffee, and chewing on a fingernail,” he’ll say.

“And your point is?”

This is how great literature is created! Is it my fault that sometimes I think best while popping bubble gum? Or that a latte and muffin at the coffee shop encourages the creative process? Can I help it if my mode of work involves staring into space for long periods of time, sometimes followed by an afternoon nap?

It’s hard, sweaty labor, but somebody has to do it. Just be glad it isn’t you.