Every bright, creative point of light in our life matters.
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It was like the songs showed me the path from that despair to where I’d always rather be.
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I can control how I focus, and that’s all I need.
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If weren’t allowed to quit, then we would stay bound to whatever project or idea first came to us.
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Unlike my heart, my creativity requires my attention to function properly.
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Your life is a blank page, a story being written every morning.
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No one can give me my breath nor take it away. It remains mine to hold or release.
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The feeling is alive and active in the body of the creator, and in this way is the first actual expression of the story.
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There is no more creative, useful thought to think than, “I like that and I would like more of it.”
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To write, I have to forget about everything but my imagination.
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To create anything, I simply cannot spend my time thinking about what I don’t have and what I don’t like.
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The writing only starts once I stop beating myself up and doubting and worrying and despairing.
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It wasn’t even the idea itself I cared about, just its arrival.
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The enduring, lifelong challenge, is to remember that what I truly have is always enough.
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I cannot believe that some stories are better than other stories, or that some writers are better than other writers.
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How nice when where I actually want to be isn’t where I thought I wanted to be.
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I sometimes want my creations to be more than things, to be like loved ones to comfort me in my dark hours.
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You never know when you’ll turn some corner in your mind and find yourself in creative a dead end, face to face with the shadow.
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I’m going to create something with every single person I meet, even if we exchange nothing more than a hello.
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No matter how glad I am when that new idea arrives at my door, no matter how interested I become when I see a familiar subject from an unfamiliar perspective, I remain vaguely uneasy about tomorrow and its unwritten story.
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