The art, the writing, the poetry are all process. It, whatever IT is at the moment, does not have to be perfect, or even stamped as “good” by some outside authority. It is a creation. Is is mine.
Yet, with another birthday behind me, the voices saying that I don’t have enough time, that I started too late, that I will never been good enough, are loud in my mind. Part of that is impatience and impulsiveness as in “I want it NOW.” There are techniques, materials, and tools to learn about. There is style, vision, imagination that has to develop. And mostly there is fear to conquer.
