Literature for me is one of those things that nearly compel me to continue writing, except that every time I feel the compulsion I realize I don’t have what it takes. Or at the very least ‘am not ready’ mantra envelops any hope of or attempt at writing. Am practicing for God knows what. I used to half jokingly tell me that I continue to write so that at the very least I learn how to write a good letter, but there is an unconscious impulse at works here, I am headed to ‘somewhere’ it’s just that I won’t know until I get there. I think that am barely getting the ropes or hang of the writing craftsmanship, and therefore need more time, but more time for what?