In your preface to Music for Chameleons, you wrote that “When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended solely for self-flagellation.” What did you mean by that? By that I meant that God does give one a gift, whatever it may be, composing or writing, but for whatever pleasure it may bring, it also is a very painful thing to live with. It’s a very excruciating life, facing that blank piece of paper every day and having to reach up somewhere into the clouds and bring something down out of them.
