My other favorite pastime besides hiking—banging out the songs of Elton John on my electric piano—is so uplifting and absorbing, at least in part precisely because there’s zero danger of my chimpanzee-level musicianship ever being rewarded with money or critical acclaim. By contrast, writing is a far more stressful undertaking, one in which it’s harder to remain completely absorbed, because I can’t eradicate the hope that I might accomplish it brilliantly, meeting with high praise or great commercial success, or at least do it well enough to shore up my sense of self-worth.
