This one’s been making its way around the Internet, and since we’ve been talking this week about inspiration and "making it," it seems especially appropriate.
A writer died, and thanks to a heavenly bureaucratic snafu, he was allowed to choose his own fate: heaven or hell for all eternity. Being very shrewd (especially for a dead person!) he asked St. Peter for a tour of both. Their first stop was hell, where the writer saw rows and rows of other writers chained to their desks in a room as hot as a thousand suns. Fire licked the writers' fingers as they tried to work; demons whipped their backs with chains. "Wow, this is awful," said the writer. "Let's see some heaven."
In a moment, they were whisked to heaven and the writer saw rows and rows of writers chained to desks, in a room as hot as a thousand suns. Fire licked the writers' fingers as they tried to work; demons whipped their backs with chains. It looked and smelled even worse than hell.
"What gives, Pete?" the writer asked. "This is worse than hell!"
"Yes," St. Peter replied, "but here your work gets published."