"A chicken and egg conundrum. Do people write because they're miserable or become miserable because they are writing? I believe that lots of people mix up the act of writing that yields a creation of a body of work with the "career" of being a writer, i.e., making money and being called a writer in public as one would be called a veteranarian or sausage maker. There is no shortage of unhappy writers. But I can't buy that people like Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dante, Keats, Tennyson, Ginsberg, Updike, Tom Wolfe and a large host of others were unhappy because they were writing. And there is a large group of others who were unhappy or unbalanced but for reasons having nothing to do with the act of writing. Poe, Plath, Kerouac, Kesey pop into my mind. If you want to write, write for your own pleasure, your family and friends, and then maybe try to make a career out of it. Probably a better plan is to do something else as you're working on your writing. Maybe something unrelated: T.S. Elliot, the banker; Wallace Stevens, an insurance wiz; Chaucer, a diplomat of sorts. This all brings to mind the story, perhaps apocryphal, of young Bob Dylan going in search of "the poet Robert Frost" in rural Vermont (or maybe NH). Finally, a local yeoman said to Dylan, "Ohhhh, you must mean Bob Frost the farmer." To be a good writer, not a navel gazer, do lots of things. Lots of things. Then write about them. And reeeeeelaxxxxx." /50Eggs/ |
-You're wealthy, celebrated, people respect you. -They respect my success. -Doesn't it mean the same thing these days? -No. I've lost the love and friendship of all people I ever cared for. I've lost myself. -Well, then there's nothing more to loose then, isn't there? /The Devil and The Webster/ |
Pēdējā laikā vidējais telefonsarunu garumu ilgums ir 40 minūtes. Tiek domāts, štukots, vienu brīdi tā, otru citādi, bet process notiek, un nu nevar, vnk nevar būt, ka tas viss nekur neved. Mēs (es un tie man apkārt, kuri arī pievienojušies štukotāju pulciņam.. ticiet vai nē, bet tādi arī parādās! pat mūziķu sabiedrībā! laikam tas viss sāk palikt pārāk pārliecinoši..vai arī-es runāju par sevi, bet sevi manā situācijā sāk ieraudzīt daudzi) bieži sev mēdzam uzdot jautājumu: kur tu biji agrāk? Atbilde: dzīvojām nošu sirrealitātē, gaistošā, no realitātes atrautā, nenoliedzami skaistā pasaulē. Kur ne visiem ir tā iespēja ieiet. Taču reālajā pasaulē jāieiet un jāatrodas mums visiem, absolūti neatkarīgi no mūsu dotībām vai vēlmēm - tajā esam mēs katrs, un neviens mums neprasa, vai mēs to gribam. Ko darīt? Tikai - sākt beidzot štukot, ko tad ar to reālo pasauli iesākt. Jo ignorēt to nevar. Ok, var, ja kontā ir kādi pāris miljoni, ar kuriem zini - kādam laikam tev varbūt ar tiem pietiks pietiks. Jā, tad token vari bezbēdu dzīvoties pa notīm, pa notīm vien. Cik no mums tādu ir? |