Caleb: My path is one checkered with failure. Each one remains a lesson learned. Looking back, I wouldn't do it differently because my shortcomings taught me how to survive.
Caleb: There's no other voice rattling around in my head today. Just mine. Kind of a relief. It gets noisy in there. Still, even without a muse to guide me, I just talk to myself.
Caleb: They say both geniuses and madmen talk to themselves. I'm not sure which one I am, if either. I know I'm making this up as I go along, wishing I had more time to devote to my craft.
Caleb: There's no instruction manual for writers, and all the greats who have come and gone before us say the same thing, albeit in a hundred different ways. In life and in literature, we merely fumble around in the dark, searching desperately to find our way into the light. None of us know what we're doing; we're just making the stories up as we go along. There's something kind of beautiful about it.
