Ask somebody who's essentially insane, lost his job, and about to cut off his Internet, live in poverty, and use the library to try write books anything.
In my youth, I was frighteningly unstable. Although I'm still prime, holding employment has been a struggle because of my bouts. After being apprehended, electroshock therapy being applied, and sedated with medication; progress still lacks.
I now fall asleep to the sight of ghouls, dream of them, and wake to them. I believe I'll dedicate this short, meagre life to horror literature. If it means permanent poverty, so be it. If it means no recognition, so be it. I want to kiss the face of horror and have it scream back.