Mary Shelly and Bram Stoker, two great icons who had the human ability 'afforded' to some... the ability to love what they did. Writing though, to both of them was a beloved hobby. Mary Shelley was a maker of things such as tissue boxes, from seashells, so she was self employed and wasn't normal because she didn't have a proper job. Her seafront shop (can't give you the location, or you may mob it) was called Shelly's Shelly Stuff.Bram Stoker, another self-employed man with no proper job he loathed, was more horrible. He was a taxidermist, but not a normal one. He stuck human skin, which he pinched from the waste bins of Chinese takeaways, to taxis and made them look very weird. He then used them to run Stoker's Goth Skin Taxis.They both wrote their famous respective masterpieces, then as usual, as writers, they died of starvation, just after the debt collectors came to get all their furniture and beat them up. It is truly a very sad world for people who entertain others with stories written on paper or computer screens. People with proper jobs and no passions don't know they're 'born', even if it is during a thunderstorm when the lightning strikes and their stitched together body may arch as the current courses through their dead flesh on its electron journey. The thunder rumbles on, regardless, like a bull elephant's gut after eating leaves which frogs have pooed on.