And So It Begins...

Here we are. (Looking around, whistling nonchalantly)

I'm sure I'm supposed to do something with all this space, I'm just not sure what exactly. Looks like it could use a fresh coat of paint, maybe some curtains. I'll definitely need to hang something on the walls.

You may be wondering why I asked you all here. I can't answer that for you, but I can tell you why I am:

You sit down I say...And you try to quiet your mind so you can hear what that landscape or character has to say above the other voices in your mind. The other voices are banshees and drunken monkeys. They are the voices of anxiety, judgment, doom, guilt. Also, severe hypochondria.

Yet somehow, in the face of all this, you clear a space for the writing voice, hacking away at the others with machetes, and you begin composing sentences. You begin to string words together like beads to tell a story. You are desperate to communicate, to edify or entertain, to preserve moments of grace or joy or transcendence, to make real r imagined events come alive. But you cannot will this to happen. It is a matter of persistence and faith and hard work. So you might as well just go ahead and get started.



So I might as well just go ahead and get started.