have been many times I've been recognized that often the reasons people give for writing. Neither the whys or wherefores. So I never seen me as an apprentice writer or anything. Not only because I lacked ability, but also because I was not recognized on the label.
more than a year ago, I started flirting with the idea of \u200b\u200bwriting my autobiography and, although I was suspicious of the usefulness of the courses that emphasize learning of literary techniques, I took an online course (online enough to to flee if necessary). By the third week, I began to feel he was doing homework. There was no pleasure. The task of imagining a character, plot, setting, etc. seemed so tedious and unnecessary. I concluded that it was not mine and that was just a hobby to write my autobiography also continuously somewhere in my hard drive.
Over recent months I started to see things from another point of view. I have the impression to begin to understand "the whole business of writing." To begin, I must admit that I started writing poems, something I never in my life I have proposed. And I do not usually read poetry. In fact, in recent years hardly read anything that has nothing to do with the growth of human consciousness. It also happens that when I read poetry and I feel good, for example Pizarnik or Chantal Maillard, I feel a mad desire to write and let him halfway. And worse: when I read a long novel is just losing interest. This should be a kind of sin, but as I said Parmenides and reminded me of a friend taking a tea at the cafe Claus on Thursday: "what is and what is not is not. And now. " I have not managed to finish the books of Susan Castilian vanpiresas witches and goddesses. Will I have a glut of such children and adolescents between apples and books. I do not know. What do I have never stopped, although sporadic, has been writing as a newspaper prints. It may be the only constant thing in my life since Müller Karen gave me a little book with the excuse to write down everything that was feeling.
Sometime last year, I began to ask me to give body to enter instead of typing in a row. Compositions were the fruit of the moment, improvised and brief. I called them crying. The reread and see what foot limp: complacent, try to control and stretch when the energy of the thought (the actual poem) is dead ... also beginning to understand the real reasons why it's worth writing. I look like a radio. Not that I produce music. I tune a frequency and make it audible (more or less clear or full of interference).
a couple of weeks ago I found a book by chance that he could not come at a better time: The joy of writing, by Natalie Goldberg. It was written in 1993 and it is wonderful. It clearly explains the deeper meaning of the writing, something I had only sensed through metaphors. I am grateful to Natalie for their great lessons of two pages.
This also allows me to free myself from the idea that I write more and better when things go wrong (I mean, poems, etc., Of course). The other day I was with my partner happily sharing. I wanted to write (in company with another innovation that I'm trying) and I asked, "Now that I'm happy, at peace and not done anything at fault can I write, I'll have something to say?". And I said, "You keep your fingers tapping and what that has to be will be." And I did. And the result was this. Flip, without rereading. In the Natalie. To my surprise and also for my peace, though I think that after the revisions and corrections made, has lost its original strength.
I have no idea of \u200b\u200bthe things that I write in the future but I do not care. Here I am for what I want to go. I know some you have the generosity to stop at my stuff. And I appreciate it. Your comments friends are making me aware of the fact of the practice of writing. Which are encouraging me makes it more real. I open a new category to distinguish in the oven or blog mulier poeticus prosaicus of "writing exercises" I called.
Thanks for picking up the flight leaves letting go my friends.
0 comments:
Post a Comment