Writing should reach into our inner depths and allow us to discover those things we are afraid to speak. If it is not doing that, we've entirely lost sight of things.
I must write everyday. Observe the world; observe my heart; write.
There once lived a good man named W.H. Auden. (Don't ask me how I just now discovered him.) His writings are timeless and I aspire to be like him.
“How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.”
His words are brilliant. He inspires me to become a better person.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've seen many a sloppy, boring writer, and today, I am hoping I'm not one.
I cannot measure myself against my neighbor; I must measure myself against myself. The battle will be a long and tragic road, for the match can never be won. A man can never prevail in a fight against himself, lest he become someone else.
Well, I'm not becoming someone else. People in critique classes want you to become someone else. Sometimes, but rarely, they are helpful. They hope for you to cram into their own tiny, idealistic box. Well, I find it to be much too cramped in there; it's a little stuffy for my liking. And where there is a box they're trying to shove you in, there is most always creativity being stifled.
When it comes to the arts (and one is halfway decent at one), it comes down to mere preference. You don't like my work, suck it! You may not like the color green, still green is a perfectly fine hue without your stamp of approval.
I am green! If you hate green, move on! We were not meant for each other!
peace, love, and shalom.
-Carli
No comments:
Post a Comment