“We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection. We write, like Proust, to render all of it eternal, and to persuade ourselves that it is eternal. We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely. We write as the birds sing, as the primitives dance their rituals. If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it. When I don't write, I feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in a prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing.”
And, when I write, I delve deep into my soul. It is a journey where the destination is not known until I arrive. It is a mystery, and a dance between my soul and the Muses. And, I must listen to the beat and the rhythm of my life, in order to fully connect, and to fully express this mysterious force within me, a force which must find expression in order to fully come to life.