There are many reasons to write, some reasons just appear out of nothing/nowhere, maybe an unfilled form, or the keys on the keyboard, one after the other, stopping and reversing to correct a spelling error. Not random, but with no purpose other than to follow the trail that appears only after the act. I find it almost impossible to organise my thoughts into writing. I cannot be a good (academic) writer of anything beyond a few paragraphs. And then I have to remind myself that that’s all a book really is, a few paragraphs, followed by a few paragraphs, followed by a few paragraphs, and, eventually, you have a book. What could be easier. Yet, I’m laughing as I write that, lines that drip cliché, even as I write them I know this, yet it doesn’t stop me writing it. Because I know that at the end I can just <delete>

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