Reflecting back on my youth until present, whether it was paint, drawing, music or writing even building and fabricating, none of it could occur without an underlying gnawing of agitation.
Agitation of the mind, heart or soul, something had to be agitated for art to manifest.
Franz Kafka said to his adoring Fiance
You once said that you would like to sit beside me while I write. Listen, in that case I could not write at all. For writing means revealing oneself to excess; that utmost of self-revelation and surrender, in which a human being, when involved with others, would feel he was losing himself, and from which, therefore, he will always shrink as long as he is in his right mind. That is why one can never be alone enough when one writes, why there can never be enough silence around one when one writes, why even night is not night enough.
Yes, this true! I agree wholeheartedly with him. Any writer that needs an audience to complete his work is a show pony, not a stallion of the desert of words.