This is going to be short, because I'm leaving for a four day trip in about 30 minutes, and won't be able to blog again before Tuesday.
But, I've been reading a wonderful book by Donald Hall, author of The Oxcart Man, about the nature of work for an author--or a painter, or a musician; for an artist of any field. The name of the book is Life's Work, and he makes a distinction between chores (those things that need to get done and don't require thought), labor (often one's paying job), and work. He makes the case that work (for an artist, anyway) is that which engrosses one's complete attention and focus, that which one feels called to do and cannot not do. It's a beautiful book, and I haven't finished it yet. It's a memoir, of sorts, a memoir about his life's work.
I love that concept of work. We writers often feel hard to justify what we are doing, really, at the computer for long hours. It doesn't look like work to others. And it certainly isn't a chore to us. We do it often without pay. We wouldn't think of not doing it. We're thinking about it, even when we aren't at the computer or the notebook. We are always at work on a WIP, one way or another.
So, now, when someone asks, "What do you do?", I can answer, "I work."
What about you? Are you "at work" on your WIP even away from your tools of trade?