Surely, if there are two professions in which there should be no professional jealousy, they are prostitution and literature.

WIlliam Faulkner said this.  Not sure why.  Are both providing similar stimulation, although typically in different locations?

Every time I read a phrase I would really have liked to write, there is that little twinge.  But on the balance, we are running a race against ourselves and our inner voice, aren’t we?  So jealousy is pointless.  Then we get to the publishing part, and need to act a little more like that other profession.