Two sincere writers should cultivate a feeling similar to that which should exist between two well-meaning political opponents: a feeling of respect and identification. In both cases, however, there are very few exceptions that outweigh the commonplace pettiness. Leaving aside superficialities such as style, schools, generations, the fact that two writers, whatever they may be, have a link that sets them apart from the rest of men, both have made an identical choice in the face of the problem of existence, and it is natural that such a distinction should become an affinity. Much more do they agree in choosing literature as a vehicle for the expression of consciousness than they differ in external aspects of the vocation. Admitting this, however, is very difficult and seems to require a virtue that few of them possess.
Tag: literature
Comfort Stimulates Inertia
Comfort stimulates inertia, and discomfort gives rise to the need for expression. This is true both individually and collectively. The great themes of every age are precisely what bothered them most. And as soon as a solution appears, either by custom or by change, we notice it by the disappearance of the theme in literature. We approach the individual and find the same thing: it is precisely from discomfort that all authentic literature is born. And if we see it this way, we cannot help but look at the difficulties from an entirely new perspective.
The Writer Is Lost If He Does Not Feel…
The writer is lost if he does not feel an irresistible attraction for the language, which compels him to study it even if he does not want to, in a practice whose abstinence manifests itself in deep discomfort. Whether this is predestination makes no difference. What is certain, however, is that he will not be able to bear the obstacles and frustrations of the profession if he does not feel himself evolving through prolonged study to infinity, only possible with a tolerance for letters that could best be defined as a passion. If he is chained to them and does not feel at ease, he must at least feel the characteristic satisfaction of fulfilling a duty.
What Writing Provides
What writing provides cannot be achieved through life: no action of any kind can match or replace it. First, the ordering and expression of thought—the step forward from reading; the consolidation of learning and reasoning. Then, the reflective nature of the process: even if it were possible to give a speech for as long as one writes and about what one writes, speech is radically different from writing because it does not allow, or rather does not require, revision, which boils down to an in-depth reflection on what one has tried to express and a decision as to its most precise expression. For individuals, writing encourages self-analysis, combining it with an action that materializes in the record of thought. Thus, for those who write, it can function simultaneously as venting and meditation. None of this, however, expresses the main effects of the process, which could be summarized as follows: growth and transformation.