The serious writer makes money like other people fist fuck. He is a wild man, a beast, and a connoisseur, who spells French words forwards and backwards with ease. Most of all, he is serious.

The woman at the side of the serious writer is devoted to his cause, which he never clearly articulated to her. She is tall, but not too tall, a blonde who could, in the right light, be taken for a brunette. She has a black bushel of strong, willful pubic hair. When the serious writer needs serious stimulation, he grabs her patch down there and yanks it.

The serious writer knows about the fertile time shortly after waking up from a dream. His woman kicks him every half an hour to interrupt his REM cycle: he then gets up, creates, and goes back to sleep. Because of this arrangement, neither the serious writer nor the woman at the side of the serious writer can get enough rest.