A random thought process I wrote down in the studio last week between lyric-writing and A Wrinkle In Time:
A lot of times when I am writing- poetry, lyrics, or just thoughts- I look back at pages and pages of my work in disgust. I wonder where my talent has gone. I wonder why I haven't created anything I am proud of lately. I think that horrible thought, that life-devouring thought:
What is the point?
And then it happens; one small, brilliant idea. A stunning poem I am really proud of. Something raw and radiant comes out of me with such force I am blown away. Once again I am renewed.
This is why I write.
There is a point to all of this. That great number of so-so things that I dumped onto paper in dismay, wondering, "Why am I still trying? Where is the gold?" all has a point.
Word by word, syllable by syllable, I'm building up a skill, nourishing and growing the gift God gave to me.
One great work cannot be without a thousand failures.