A while ago I wrote a short story about a guitar player walking down a dirt road toward a crossroads late at night. It was a long, excruciatingly painful walk, because he was about to get the thing he wanted most in the world: the ability to play the instrument like no other human being.
Of, course, he had to pay a price.
I think that agonizingly long walk towards a tangible goal is part of the price he had to pay in order to reach that certain goal. Continue reading “The long road”
I woke up this morning to a pretty cool surprise. I had reached 40,000 followers on this blog, which is kind of a big deal, at least to me.
When I first started blogging a year and a few months ago I couldn’t possibly imagine that so many people would like my writing. To be frank, I didn’t even know what I wanted to write about, or if I had anything to say. I knew that I wanted to become a self-published writer, and I knew that I wouldn’t give up. I made myself this promise: that I would be relentless in this pursuit, no matter what. And I’d just keep blogging and writing.
A lot of indie writers ask themselves if blogging can help their careers. Today I’m going to answer this question.Continue reading “40K”
A lot of people got offended by a recent post of mine. Or, well, they thought the first sentence was offensive. And even though I wrote a disclaimer later on, I still got plenty of angry comments and stuff. And even though I’m used to people missing the point, I fear that too many have missed the point here.
So, let me explain. The post, or the first sentence (which is actually from George Bernard Shaw’s Man and Superman) is not about teachers, as in high-school teachers. So if you teach Physics or Maths or whatever, you’ve got no reason to be offended. I have the utmost respect for teachers of any kind, and I believe education is the only way we can truly become human. We gain knowledge and culture and understanding of what it means to be a human being. So, yeah, that wasn’t the point.Continue reading “To all the teachers”
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.*
Sometimes I feel there are more writers teaching others how to write, passing down rules, than there are writers who actually write.
It’s easier to teach than to do, and it feels like a nice shortcut towards fame, success, money, whatever.
I do my best not to teach anyone how to write. I want to believe I’m just writing about my own process. If someone finds motivation, or inspiration, or something else worth applying in their own process, that’s cool. If not, it’s still cool.
So, yeah, there are a lot of rules being passed down. Most of them won’t apply to everyone.
Continue reading “Rules, rules, rules”
Most of my main characters are hopeless romantics. Well, that’s how I’d go about defining them. Maybe they’re just idealists: they believe in something wholeheartedly, and they stay true to their version of the world, no matter what. Maybe all idealists are stubborn like that.
Jonathan Fisher, in The Writer, wants to become a great writer, no matter what. Chris Sommers, in Jazz, wants to be happy. Francisc Goyer, in A Sad, Sad Symphony, wants to create the perfect symphony, just so he can leave something behind. Something great. The narrator in Remember wants nothing more than to kiss the woman he’s always been in love with.
And Chris Packlem is willing to do the same thing, but he doesn’t really know what he wants. He used to think that becoming rich would solve all his problems. He was wrong.
He’s the kind of guy who spends an awful lot of time wandering around New York. I imagine that to be the ultimate proof of how lonely he really feels. How lonely can anyone feel; to be surrounded by the commotion and despair of a huge city, by all these strangers passing him by, and to feel as if the world is inhabited by ghosts. Or maybe he’s the ghost.Continue reading “Amor vincit omnia”