I, of course, like the art of songwriting. That attempt to make something sound right and speak right inside a small three minute window of opportunity.

A novelist doesn’t have the music to worry about. But they have to get the words right, page, after page, after page. It’s a massive endeavour of imagination, empathy, and intellect. When it’s done well the reader doesn’t need to be persuaded to turn those pages. We follow in wonder, like moths to a flame.

A comedian is the bravest of all artists. I truly don’t know how or why they put themselves through it. Making people laugh is one thing. Making people laugh, on demand, something else entirely. To go through the process of learning how to do that, until people pay to watch, must be butt-clenchingly terrifying. They have to become the fool, so we don’t have to. And the best ones do far more than make us laugh.

Then there is the composer who writes not one melody, but ten, twenty, a hundred. And then arranges them together in a complete whole, in which the sum of the parts, which individually are wonderful, make something even more magical.

The list goes on. Artist, Poet, Director, Sculptor, Actor. And a multitude of other crafts, trades, skills, jobs, professions and hobbies that, in the right hands, even though they don’t always look like creative endeavours, become works of art.

We’re all trying to make our mark. We should never give up the hope of making something that is outstanding.