The best and rarest criticism is constructive, and very few people know how to give it. This being the case, the wisest thing to do with early writing-and early drafts of all writing-is to practice the art of containment.
"You must practice containment, "I told the young writer. "stop showing your stories around, especially to your friends. Just write more of them and send them over by fax. Let's aim for an even dozen. Write first. Worry about fixing them later. "
....At it;s base, for me, love is what writing is about. As an act of lover, it deserves our protection and our deepest respect.
Medieval cities flourished within high walls that must be protected perimeters. Each of us contains a creative core that must be protected in precisely the same way. I think of my creativity as my most valuable asset. It is my wealth. I know that, and I protect that in the same way a wise man invests soundly and conservatively to protect his wealth.
..How do we squander our wealth? To begin with, we show our work too soon and too indiscriminately. We undervalue our valuable writing. We do not qualify our readers the way a bank qualifies an investor. We do not stop to question the aspiring reader's qualifications. In our eagerness to be read, we open the city gates. This is like giving passersby access to our checking account.
- posted on 12/20/2009
on loneliness
but we do not go into a room all alone. We go into a rom that is crowded by our own experiences, jammed to the rafters with our thoughts, feelings, friendships, gains, and losses. I am lonely today because I did not write enough yesterday. Not, writing, i drop the thread of my consciousness. I lose track of myself. It is me, my consciousness, that I am missing. It is often disguised as missing someone else, and we do that too.
... The writing life is a proof against loneliness. It is a balm for loneliness. It is an act of connection first to ourselves and to others.
When I don't write enough, I get a gnawing sense of disease. It is an appetite that isn't sated by other things. I become lonely for my soul. I try to find it by talking with people. - posted on 12/20/2009
我非常不擅长于细节描述,学习摘抄妙的细节描述。 getting more intimate with the details, more intimate with my own mind.
it was the upper lip. at first i thought she'd gotten food stuck between her teeth and was trying to jerk the bit of hamburger with her tongue. but it happened all the time. I'd see a sucked-in small piece of her mouth. We didn't know each other well at the beginning. I thought it was a nervous habit. she had s beautiful mouth and big white teeth. why wouldn't she show her mouth to the best advantage? even after a few months, after we made love, when she was relaxed and happy, even right after laughter, the upper right lip was pulled in. I began to see it had nothing to do with me. It was an internal uneasiness. Half of her wanted to open up and the other half was held in. After awhile I could imagine her as an old woman with no teeth, the whole mouth collapsed into one wrinkled fat black hole.
...
he finished his coffee and cigarette slowly, savoring the mixed flavors and moment of rest. since he'd stopped using the holder his smoking style had changed. He'd take a quick drag, blow out about a third of the smoke immediately, inhale the rest, and let it come out as he talked. I often made it a point ot sit in such a way that a strong light source behind him showed up the smoke. It was amazing how lng it came out, a fine, almost invisible blue stram, phrase after phrase, changing direction smoothly as he clipped off the words. for some reason I admired this phenomenon tremendously. I could sit watching for hours.
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