A lifetime’s experience urges me to utter a warning cry: do anything else, take someone’s golden retriever for a walk, run away with a saxophone player. Perhaps what is wrong with being a writer is that one can’t even say good luck – luck plays no part in the writing of a novel. No happy accidents as with the paint pot or chisel. I don’t think you can say anything, really. I’ve always wanted to juggle and ride a unicycle, but I dare say if I ever ask the advice of an acrobat he would say,’ All you do is get on and start pedalling …’
J. G. Ballard, p. 306
George Plimpton, The Writer’s Chapbook, Viking 1989.