Blood and skull and tongue and gall, use it all. Draw from it the lessons of the body—your body—broken and beaten yet levitating with the constancy of disappointment dancing with victory. Write your life. Sing your song. Paint your watercolors while on the banks of dangerous rivers.

The point is not perfect aim, it’s perfect continuity. To produce work relentlessly and with such frequency and consistency that its presence—and through that, your existence—becomes undeniable.

Sharing your preciousprecious won't kill you.