One thing I’ve been learning to do as a writer* is heed the images that present themselves to me without my asking, and worry about the “why” later, or sometimes, never. I know I know why. And I reject the delusion that I’m so special, no one else will understand. If the image was imminent enough that it surfaced in my mind, chances are it will resonate with plenty of others. Those with whom it doesn’t might at least be intrigued enough to consider why someone else might have the thought (which saves me the trouble of telling them), and those who aren’t even intrigued have no business enjoying art anyway. Just kidding.  Continue reading “On Writing” →