Pursing the craft of writing requires determination and a certain understanding that failure is a step to success. So, when I think of all the writers who struggle, I laugh. It is not a cackle of cold-hearted humour but a laugh of harmonious hysterics. And we must laugh, because it’s far less painful than banging one’s head against a wall. A day without laughter is a day with bandages on our heads.

And so, I commend all writers on their continued dedication to writing. Storytelling isn’t a craft for cowards; it is for people with golden scissors in the pocket of their pants. A tool to cut well-loved sentences, paragraphs, and chapters. In fact, well-written stories are the result of a bloody and thorough scissor slaughter. My novel, for instance, is beginning to feel like Frankenstein— a cobbled together horror of life.

In the end, dear fellow writers, the only way to finish is to keep on writing. Which oddly doesn’t always mean going forward; often times, in a banging your head against a wall situation, you need to go back to the beginning. Ugh. However, don’t give up. Whether it be forward or back, movement is the key to success.

Be the flowing words; be the vibrational hum; be the silence and the song. 
Warble on and tell your stories of deep longing in a world of shallow breaths. 
Go outside and walk upon the earth; take notice of the trees and the sky. 
Pause to listen to the screams of silent masses, and then come into yourself and gather up your gifts and share. 
Stories are you; they are me; they are everyone we see. 
Endless tales of wonder and laughter and banging our heads against the walls.