It needs to cost you something. The creativity, it needs to cost you. Otherwise all you’re doing is taking the edge off. I spent the first 19 years of my life in desperate attempt to communicate, anything and everything. My heart and my mind, form and colour were my first languages and it made speaking hard. I previously wrote that if no-one ever bothered to teach me English I would have found a way to speak through pictures and the visual, imagery. I stand by that, it was my first language. Somewhere along the way, between 18 and 19, I found writing. Not that I hadn’t ever written before that, but not like this. Even today, as I sit here trying to communicate about communicating I’m having a hard time finding the exact words. But I found the words that finally conveyed all that was occurring inside. Where 22 bled into 23 I started writing my first novel, and it cost me something. I had been a dancer, a painter, even tested my pipes at the choir, but none of them cost me what
Comments
Post a Comment