On The Canvas

Sometimes I wonder whether I’ll ever be capable of emulating the greatest experiences in art, the ones that really stick in your mind afterwards. It’s not that I’m completely lacking confidence in my ability to write; a certain song I wrote a few years ago has given me enough positive feedback to realise that I’m capable of impressing people, if only once; rather, a really powerful bridge to a song, or a moment in a story that tugs on your heartstrings the way the end of The Amber Spyglass did to me… they define the artist, to some degree.

I suppose you guys will see when I’m done with this book, whether my concern over my abilities, or lack thereof, is justified, but I will tell you that whatever version you see, if you even ever get to see it, will be vetted through ridiculous amounts of editing.

I want to be able to go through and make sure there isn’t any point that doesn’t fit, isn’t enjoyable, or is just slow to read, and considering it’ll probably be at least 300 pages that’s going to be a long process. Hopefully it will be worth it, but time can only tell.

Wish me luck, I suppose.

There’s nothing quite as fulfilling as watching a world that previously only existed in your brain becoming a reality, for me of course, but I constantly remind myself of the odds of anything ever coming of it. I happily admit to that now, I learned my lesson about denying the chances of something going wrong when I was still playing in a band, and am all too aware of how unhealthy overlooking reality can be for someone who has their head in the clouds as much often as I do.

At this point I don’t even know if I’m fit to try to do this stuff, I only know that I love writing it and I want it to be an enjoyable read as well.

I’ll let you guys know when it’s done.


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