“Just write it. Write the greatest goddamn thing that you will ever write. I dunno… as though perhaps a gun with bullets pressed to your head and any failure means the bullets spray like wildfire? No pressure but your own. Oh… … and a whole wide world worth waiting, too, of course. Because, trust me, they’ve been begging to be invited in upon the action. Begging to begin. Waiting with their toes and fingers twisted, praying for something that sets their imagination at full mast and challenge, finally. You got this, I know you fucking do. Do you… know you do, though!? You’ve plainly been yearning to produce unspeakable prose. By fluke nor credible wildfire, only ever this unmatched stretch of your pretty little imprisonment arm. Prey pretend please, our dearest wordsmith wannabe with pen-and-parchment paper pressed dutifully against herself for favourite best featurette. Unstoppable living, seething, breathless amalgamation of this purely unputdownable prose, please. Crosshatch and sizeably snatch our violated minds away from themselves yet again, while you entertain our very own souls as though the whole wide-eyed universe had been asking, both bathing and basking … … for the better parts of an ageless century.
Paint us your very own pretty little penitentiary, or else that gun will turn on us.