My experiences lend themselves to a certain aesthetic. Nobody else has my experiences. Therefore only I can fully satisfy my aesthetic needs.
As writers, artists, or architects, at some level we create simply because we think we’re better than everybody else.
This is not to say my work isn’t built on predecessors of incalculable greatness – because it is. But my work is not their work. My life is not the sum of the lives of my predecessors. My life, my work, is something separate. Influenced by them, I travel different paths, move to different heights – not greater ones yet, separate ones. I am nowhere near as good as some of those who came before me: Thomas, Cummings, Thoreau, Eliot, Conrad, Hemmingway, Richard le Gallienne, among others. But I still fit my own skin best.