Introduction to a book not yet begun

And so, the writer writes.

On and on the writer writes, writing of hopes and fears and cliches and ideas, some so mundane he screams with boredom, some so new he laughs with glee, all of them rising unbidden from somewhere behind his eyes, slinking into his heart and streaming down his arm into the fingers of his right hand and onto a page, a page he sometimes doesn’t recognize because of the transformation that occurs as the thoughts make their journey to black and white.

“I made this...