Leonard emerges after seeming dead, and interrupts everything

I have to find a confidence again in putting words on a page. It’s been too much of a struggle to face a processor document on the computer, so I place small sketches on a blog, or scrawl germs into a journal. It has gone on for nearly four years, and now I am faced with the prospect of being enrolled in a writing program with no sense of who I am as a writer. I am hoping that by buying this large screen, setting it on a good desk, and placing that desk in a space on this planet that holds true beauty and tranquility, that perhaps a music might arise from my attempts at the bigger canvas

—so you have trouble staring at a blank canvas, here, let’s blow it up five times as big, five times the empty, unused space. It will either scare you to death, or you will see the necessity for that canvas to be filled with your ideas. It will be clumsy at first, and dispel yourself of the notion that you will get your confidence back. That writer is gone. He died years ago, and good riddance I say. He was a liar and a brigand, and a poor wordsmith. The one who fills these canvases will plumb his very depths, he will sacrifice, he will love his art and the art of others truly, lie only to kings and gatekeepers, steal only from thieves, and you might call him any rich name you like and adorn him in golden robes, but he will be anything but confident in those words he keeps. It will be the source of his struggle. The reason he will continue striving for better. When I killed this other author, and held his head in my hand as the life left him, staring madly into his face, that he might see the image of his tormentor, that he might die in terror of what he had unleashed, weaved between the lines of narrator and author, and brought forth as his murderer, you did not know then that I was paving the way for this other, golden fellow. You ran from me, even conspired with other writers to have me killed in what turned out to be more than twenty distinct fashions. And you still may not understand, but you soon will.