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From the novel The Zahir by Paulo Coelho
Writing is one of the most solitary activities in the world. Once every two years, I sit down in front of the computer, gaze out on the unknown sea of my soul, and see a few islands—ideas that have developed and which are ripe to be explored. Then I climb into my boat—called The Word—and set out for the nearest island. On the way, I meet strong currents, winds, and storms, but I keep rowing, exhausted, knowing that I have drifted away from my chosen course and that the island I was trying to reach is no longer on my horizon. I can't turn back, though, I have to continue somehow or else I'll be lost in the middle of the ocean; at that point a series of terrifying scenarios flash through my mind, such as spending
the rest of my life talking about past successes, or bitterly criticizing new writers, simply because I no longer have the courage to publish new books. Wasn't my dream to be a writer? Then I must continue creating sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and go on writing until I die, and not allow myself to get caught in such traps as success or failure. Otherwise, what meaning does my life have? |
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From The Writer's Workshop by Stephen Koch
The search for a story is a matter of slowly, calmly, carefully tentatively coaxing a hidden set of somethings into visibility. |
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