I am going to have to write Solitude from scratch. The idea of this both intrigues me and scares the shit out of me. More the latter than the former. That sentence was so unnecessary. It scares me because of the emotion and inspiration I need to complete it. Do I want it to be just straight poetry? No, because it’s being penned as a poetry novel.
Poetry novel? The hell that is?
How much of myself do I want to put into this book and how much do I want to deliver a point?
What’s the point?
All new material? Can I do it? Will it be good? Will people understand? Does anyone ever understand? Here we go.
I want it to go from a crowded, distracted, impulsive selfishness to a singular, attempt at individuality.
Advantageous, at best.