Slay That Dragon Once, And He Will

Look In Your Own Heart. Unless I'm Crazy, Right Now A Still Small Voice Is Piping Up, Telling You As It Has Ten Thousand Times, The Calling That Is Yours And Yours Alone. You Know It. No One Has To Tell You. And Unless I'm Crazy, You're No Closer To Taking Action On It Than You Were Yesterday Or Will Be Tomorrow. You Think Resistance Isn't Real? Resistance Will Bury You.

Our Enemy Is Not Lack Of Preparation; It’s Not The Difficulty Of The Project Or The State Of The Marketplace Or The Emptiness Of Our Bank Account. The Enemy Is Our Chattering Brain, Which, If We Give It So Much As A Nanosecond, Will Start Producing Excuses, Alibis, Transparent Self-justifications And A Million Reasons Why We Can’t/shouldn’t/won’t Do What We Know We Need To Do.

Artists Are Modest. They Know They're Not Doing The Work; They're Just Taking Dictation.

F@*# Self-doubt. I Despise It. I Hold It In Contempt, Along With The Hell-spawned Ooze-pit Of Resistance From Which It Crawled. I Will Never Back Off. I Will Never Give The Work Anything Less Than 100%. If I Go Down In Flames, So Be It. I'll Be Back.

Tomorrow Morning The Critic Will Be Gone, But The Writer Will Still Be There Facing The Blank Page. Nothing Matters But That He Keep Working.