A masterpiece

I just finished The Book Thief, and it was lovely. Beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes while I was sitting in history class. I always knew I needed to read it, but I couldn't before... or wouldn't. The wait was well worth it, though.

I was talking with Martina the other day, and she asked if I ever wanted to write a novel. I said that if I ever do, I want it to be "un molto buono libro." But I lied. If I wrote a book, I wouldn't be satisfied with just good. I would want to write a fucking masterpiece. That's one of the reasons I'm not really positive it will ever happen. I know I'm capable. I believe in my skill. When I wish to, I can write beautifully. But I don't know if I have it in me. And I'm a little scared to find out.