The clock tocks twelve twice in the studio with my mind dead set on writing. The desire is to abandon responsibilities, but they must get completed before I proceed. The methods I use to work with the audio reflect how I long for writing. It’s an obsession I fulfill daily, yet always want more. The behavior of a junkie.

In my personal life this addiction presents itself as insomnia. My brain wanders off when it’s been given a break and begins to work on the stories. Character development, settings, even scenes develop throughout the course of my downtime, against my will. So I get up and write to calm the thoughts down. Repeat the next day.

If only I could distract myself from the write addiction of figuring out the right way. I’m plagued with the want for the learning experience writing is.

...and work until it starts to shine. Through word play and multiple drafts, one sentence turns into many. They become paragraphs with meaning. Purpose. A message.

Before long garbage turns to gold. Words exposing the soul. About who I am. About what I do. Even if its fiction, that fiction came straight from inner truth. And I’ll hate it more than anyone around. They’ll love it because it was not made by them. But they got to see the things about me that I can’t express any other way. And they’ll like it even more if they relate. Because like me they struggle to say what they’d like to say.

The doubt in my ability to make things that’ll last and people...