And know this, too: If you are a writer who commits your life to the craft—again and again—and you’re willing to try and fail, follow and lead, live and get lost, read a ridiculous sum of books, and be fully awake in all that good stuff called living—then you might just become a great writer.
You struggle so much to know the weight of the world, to carry all those buzzing feelings within you and to push them through your art— so that beauty is known, so that truth is told, so that God is seen and known and loved in a world that so desperately needs what you have, yet forgets to see who he is— and who you are. You, who battles the darkness and finds the light on the dance floor, the canvas, and the piano, or in the lines of the poem that struck you at midnight.
