Even as you begin your voyage, your journey, as a writer, even without consciously knowing, even without a complete language for it, even without any logical comprehension of it, you know, basically the vision, which is itself something triumphant. This is how writers endure. You cannot be afraid of the process, because you've already, through a deep instinct, begun.

It is good to understand this about yourself, as you head into the unknown. You'll know better to love nature and peaceful things. You won't fight yourself with fixations of fear and anxiety. Yes, you'll have to endure some things, but, those too will work out in the end as part of the overall vision.

Certainly, there are patterns for it, to light the way with applicable metaphor. There is the well-known story of Jesus, a broad encapsulation of the things people go through, the Christian understanding of the life of the faithful. There is the wisdom of a Francis, of a Buddha, grasping simplicity. And as you grow, you'll find many examples of what the faithful might endure, All Quiet on the Western Front, and Kundera's The Joke, coming to mind, low grade, but accurate and conspicuously real and of this world. As real as Chekhov is real.

I set out as a writer, without knowing what I was doing. Perhaps it had started back when I began drawing as a child. And the book I wrote was a response to the overall vision, and I am proud of its chasteness. While I might have thought it was about one particular thing, a particular set of circumstances, it was about more than that, even if I did not consciously realize that at the time, or really, for a long time, except, except for the poetry, the archetype imbedded, which at first seemed a sort of after thought, something parallel that built up within as part of its music.

As with anything worthy, I suppose, you have little idea exactly where it will take you, but to live day by day in peace and contentment.

Yes, it seems odd, that you would know, even as you started out, that you would grasp for the right materials, the proper building blocks of a story to give earthly representation of a shared vision. Some might argue, we are predisposed, unconsciously, by some conditioning of the mind. But I don't see it that way. You do what you do out of knowing the good and proceeding self-confidently, even if you are criticized for personal lackings over the same circumstances.

The remainder of the archetypal Judeo-Christian/Buddhist story seems not far behind, the voice of temptation the writer hears on Monday morning, out in the desert waiting for something to come to him in the way of words or story or form of thought. The voice tempts him to quit and seek some less rocky path, one that makes more sense. The voice tempts him as he sits under his tree at the center of the world, laughing at his peaceful logic, asking him 'what right he has...' How could he possibly succeed, the voice asks. The details seems right, even if the scale is less.