The great French writer Flaubert said, I believe, that if he did not write for ten hours a day he felt ill. I confess that I consider myself in the pink if I manage three. And then there are the days when I omit writing altogether. Call them the Black Days. But writing is so much more than just tapping at the keyboard or getting ink all over your forefinger. Writing is thinking, processing, ruminating, remembering, assimilating, and breathing. It is Life.