I always thought that the key to being a good writer was to be honest, which is ridiculous. Writing has nothing to do with honesty, not with the reader, and not with yourself. The key is, and always has been, being brave. Being brave won’t make you a good writer, but a good writer will never be heard without the courage to be bare and vulnerable, a bold faced liar and an ultimate truth teller. To talk and talk, and be willing to have most of what they say be complete garbage just to have a small fraction of it be worthy of sharing with others. If the undeniable driving force is to leave some sort of mark on the world to insure that once we die and turn to dust a piece of us remains, it takes a giant set of balls to take that piece and shove it against the wall of humanity until it sticks. All this time I was waiting to pursue writing until I could be honest, when really I was just waiting to grow some balls.