Something about Aiva’s demeanor was uncomfortable. Marcelle watched her shake it off, but let the silence grow for a moment before taking pity on her and responding.
“It’s a profession,” she answered placidly. “I can write well, and earn a living by it.” She took pride in all her work, but most of her writing was a matter of making something technically good that would satisfy her client, or sell well enough to provide some passive income. A craft rather than an art, in her eyes. The only thing she had published under her own name was her poetry, and at times she regretted that. It was by far her most vulnerable writing.
She offered Aiva a small smile, inclining her head conspiratorially. “I think reading is more enjoyable, personally. Though my own preferences fall under horror or non-fiction.”
@Mouschi - Aiva