Remember what you were like as a young writer?

Nascent scribbling of future dreams made me feel almost prescient; the act of journaling like a secret initiation into the clairvoyant club. There’s something magical about expressing one’s hopes and horrors, about the undeniable existence of ink soaking into paper, the crisp stain of symbols–a rapturous incantation if ever there was one.

Yes, work hard at your craft and stay humble in the face of good advice, but don’t forget the magic of scribbling down your secretes, giving shape to your demons and dared-to-dreams makes them easer to face. After all, your reader will trust you more if you know yourself.

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