Often, you write, not necessarily because you have something to say, but because you’re searching for the best way, any way even, to say what you already have, to express emotion, which I think most writing aims to do. The process of figuring out how to bring feeling through pen, then to paper and to life, is the result, an end in itself. Hence, the frequent rambling and incoherence that may characterize a lot of work, and the fact that the said work may never crystallize into something lucid. And, in the nonlinearity of the narratives and thoughts, one or two gems may swim to the surface and blast onto the pages, in brilliance and colour, the so-called inspired work. Later, as you’re going through your earlier writing, often during slumps in your life, you come across them, the special pieces that seemed to have come from a beautiful and forgotten place, and you’re reminded what you’re capable of.