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Perdone usté el vómito verbal

Soylent Green (1973) dir. Richard Fleischer

I'm 14 and I dream of becoming a writer, do you have any advice on what I can do for now so that when I 'grow up' I can achieve my dream?

First of all, you need to read. Read everything you can lay your hands on. Read the ‘classics’ in whatever areas of writing you want to work in, so you know what the high points are. Read outside your areas of comfort, so you know what else is out there. Read.

Second, try things out. Enjoy yourself. If you find a writer you like, write like them. And then sound like something else. Write anything. Don’t worry about it being good or read by other people. Just play, and play a lot.

Third, read books on writing, use anything that seems interesting and ignore anything that you want to. When I was a boy, I remember the delight with which I found a book called THE CRAFT OF SCIENCE FICTION, edited by Reginald Bretnor with essays by a bunch of writers, although the only things I’ve used (I think) were John Brunner’s descriptions of the different shapes of stories, and Larry Niven’s advice to treasure your typos (which is where CORALINE came from).

Fourth, live as much as you can. The more things you see, the more places you go, the more lives you touch, the more you will be able to write truthfully, and the more memories you will have to make your imaginings real.

Don’t let people discourage you. (You are under no obligation to tell anyone you are going to be a writer.) You are not on anyone’s timeline. You can get a job that’s a writing job, or get a different sort of job: neither of these things matter in the long run. Just know that you are going to have to make the time to write.

Beyond that, you are on your own. And, when it’s you in front of a screen or a blank piece of paper, that’s the way it’s always going to be.

el ciclo de todas las cosas que nacen

Creció. Tuvo una infancia memorable; una adolescencia terrible, una juventud como todas; una madurez triste y una muerte solitaria. Casi abre los ojos. Pero nació de nuevo. Tuvo una infancia horrible: ofendieron su inocencia; la adolescencia fue vacía, triste; la juventud fue reconciliadora; la madurez fue la felicidad. Murió rodeado de sus seres queridos.

Y ahora sí abrió los ojos. Y seguía cayendo en el pozo, el abismo al que lo habían condenado. Los cerró y volvió a nacer. En el quirófano todavía se acordaba del vértigo de la caída.

#cuento #shortfiction

dancing-at-the-funeralparty-dea

Francisco Goya

wordsnquotes

It is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.

Jorge Luis Borges, A New Refutation of Time (via themotherofrevelation)

wilburwhateley

Hauntology and Weird are two iterations of the same problematic—that of crisis-based modernity showing its contradictory face, utterly new and traced with remnants, chaotic and nihilist and stained with human rebukes.

China Miéville, from M. R. James and the Quantum Vampire; Collapse IV, 2008 (via wilburwhateley)