Sometimes just the trepidation of writing, what should I write? I don’t think once got anything to say, I don’t know what I would write about makes it for a difficult time in beginning writing, like the nervousness one encounters when asked to join onstage, you’ve been given a part to play, and play it you must, so write, write. Because therein do you find what you didn’t have to say before, thoughts fly to the furthest stretches of your imaginings, a place so pitch dark unknown that what comes out of which is so terribly new and foreign that the greatest fears and wildest joys encounter with such frequency. I mean, write! Like you’ve got a chance, one last chance, at brilliance and chase the dying light into the depths of human being, past human understanding, far beyond the guts of us into a world only a spirit could comprehend. So write. Go forth and journey to your soul’s humblest beginnings in stars long dead across the vast expanse of forevermore, how could you know mortal? What could you have to say about that which you know nothing of? Write. And find out.
For the Writers