Actually words can appear magically on a page. But not because of relentless excruciating work. It happens when writing ceases to be work and instead becomes an act of pure love.

When this happens the author doesn’t quite perfectly fit into any of the stereotypes you listed (and maligned). As a reader I don’t care if the author of what I read is rich or poor or how forcibly hard they work. I only care about the words on the page. Just because one writer may work harder than another doesn’t make the words on the page better or more noble.

As I writer, I am not in a competition with other writers to put in more work or put out more content than them. I’m not thinking about money or goals or success or psychological validation. I’m not typing and typing and typing until my fingers and brain start bleeding. If writing became nothing but work and relentless perseverance then the mojo could never find the opening to come through. And writing would cease to be a joy. The joy is not in the intensity of work or the rewards garnered. It is in the words on the page and the feeling of those words flowing through us. It’s hard to feel that joy when constantly beating ourselves with a bull whip.

If writing ever became for me nothing but excruciating non-stop work and perseverance then I would probably stop. Without the joy and passion I would just be a robotic content mill. I couldn’t live with that. I guess then I would fit into the stereotype known as, quitter.