About four and a half months ago I got Freshly Pressed for the first time. Now another one of my posts has been picked. So, yeah, it’s cool.
If you’re new to this blog, the only thing you need to know about me is this: I’m not the guy who writes what you want to read, I’m the guy who writes what he wants to write.
The only thing I know about being picked up by WordPress editors is that it’s one of those things that just happen when you least expect them to happen, so instead of me pretending to know something about this whole thing, let me make a few lists.
The first list: my favorite posts of 2012.
One of the most ironic (and sometimes frustrating) things about blogging is that you don’t know why or how posts actually get people talking. It might be something you’ve worked on for hours and hours or just a stupid post you wrote during a cigarette break.
But it does happen that you write a post that you really like (either because you worked hard on it or because you think it’s just so smart), and it just doesn’t take off…
So here’s a list of my favorite (and not so well known posts) of 2012:
A lot of writers out there, if asked, will say that writing isn’t easy. But it’s not because of the rules you have to obey, or the conventions, or the need of a vivid imagination. Writing isn’t easy because you have to relieve the most painful moments of your life, over and over again, and then you have to write them down, hoping that they’ll matter to someone else other than yourself.
John Steinbeck once said, “All great and precious things are lonely.”
And only in that solitude can we properly appreciate a piece of art. Reading a book, listening to a song, staring at a painting, all demand that you shut out the rest of the world. A great book almost always demands that of you.
Maybe this is what makes art so important. The link it creates between human beings. Miles and years apart. You get to see inside my head, and I get you to spend a few moments alone, wishing to find out who you are and what’s your place in this world.
We all want to become so good at what we love doing that it becomes effortless. We want to stroll our fingers across the keyboard and win the Pulitzer.
But it’s not like that.
It seems to me that it’s in our nature to search for shortcuts. That’s why how-to guides are so popular. We want guides, recipes, formulas, and crucial insight from experts. We have gurus in basically any field. And I understand. It’s part of what makes us great – we evolve by building upon what others built before us. But, sadly, writing is not the same as gardening. It’s not just a craft, no matter how much we’d like to believe so.
Every day, somewhere in the world, a writer sits down at his desk and writes the best thing he has ever written. Maybe he doesn’t even know it yet. Maybe he will never know it.
Now, for our second list. Random stuff that I like.
- Favorite novel: The Great Gatbsy
- Favorite authors: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, John Steinbeck, David Foster Wallace, Nicole Krauss (and her husband, Jonathan Safran Foer), Julio Cortazar, Camilo Jose Cela, G.G. Marquez, Mario Vargas Llosa, Adolfo Bioy Casares, Jorge Luis Borges, Chuck Palahniuk, Frederic Beigbeder, Michel Houellebecq, and a bunch of others. Oh, and my favorite Romanian writer (which I consider to be the best writer this country ever gave birth to) Max Blecher. Seriously, look him up.
- Favorite movie: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (seriously, I can watch it as many times as I want, and it never gets boring.)
- Favorite painting: Wanderer above the Sea of Fog by Caspar David Friedrich
- A list of other random stuff I like: minimalist covers, post-modern art, Constantin Brancusi, Jackson Pollock, Paul Gauguin.
- Favorite English words: Hell’s Kitchen. Don’t know why, they just sound cool.
- Favorite English words I use way too often: “and stuff”
And last, but not least, a list (if you read that out loud it’s actually kind of funny) of places where you can find me (or my books):
If this isn’t shameless promoting, I don’t know what is.
Have a great (and very lazy) Sunday morning, afternoon, night (and I’m sorry for you folks in the Far East because it’s already Monday.)