Whenever you are attempting to create something sizeably different, that is when you will need to let all of your preordained thoughts — the imprisoning thoughts that have been fed through you by the reading of a hundred, perhaps thousand other types of books — right the way behind. When it comes to the matter of literature this is a surefire must, absolutely. Does not matter how many pieces or styles you have written to date, they are all simply just an important part of the heady process with it all. A footnote, if you like. Have to have been, actually. Not so enviable either, that travail; unless of course, you are both finally and fully able to accept and wholeheartedly understand that a large part of you — the workings of your particular brain — needs to continue on regardless of the constant hours of uncertainty, the pernickety and pestering lethargy that comes into play more oft than not. And of course, there will always and forever be unanimous levels of uncertainty that appear so very alarmingly paralysing that it shall opt upon leaving you truly believing that you never really had any real right in the first instance to be doing any of this. All par for the course, no two ways. Nothing magnificent was ever seen to be easy in the first place, right? Be it journalism, or poetry, or whichever medium of art that you might just feel most suited to, there is a multitude of ways and manners back into the moment. And in fact, for the completely empowered creator, the artist who can even create beauty when they should be feeling as though they really can not, the remarkability of the mere process will eventually, thank Christ, start at far outweighing the actual final outcome of the hoped-for piece of creativity. All of the greatest creators the world over were far more intent on nailing down the comfort of a process than causing themselves to think ahead to the dreaded outcome. This wasn’t built to be in any way easy. You want, no… crave a larger-than-life audience, then be your own first audience, please.