Son: Why bother with the boring reading, the difficult thinking, the never-ending study and the tortuous editing — why bother with work when a cup of coffee, a little luck and the right mood produces the best writing I’ve written?
Father: Work is compost. It cannot make you great. It can only make you ready. It stinks, but in its stinking you’ll become fertile soil for the seeds of inspiration contained in your coffee, your good mood and your rare moments of luck.