Edgar Allan Poe’s writings showed me perfectly that there can be such fragile beauty and purity located in darkness and sorrow.
I feel like these characters, these places, these beings and plots, and even these inanimate objects are counting on me for survival. It’s my responsibility to reveal them to the world, to show my readers the names of these things, to show them their histories and stories.
It’s my opinion that only in times of utter depression or lofty peace is it appropriate to be creative.