Tag: writing

It is true that, despite all the inherent affliction of writing, organizing thought, shaping it into words, varying forms, testing new possibilities and dressing it differently with each new piece, has its pleasures. Unpretentiously, it is possible to enjoy and take a liking to the process, without which one does not get far in letters. The unfortunate thing is that literature is not limited to these moments when thought seems like inert matter and the artist’s job is simply to conform it, as if, by doing so, the artist does not bind himself to it in such a way that expression always appears imperfect and always represents a painful separation.

A great writer does not write for his generation and must accept it. It will be more difficult to do so the more he loses the sense of his own greatness or, rather, the greatness of his own mission. Literary activity, the desire to be part of literature, must be seen primarily as a recognition of the value and power of letters. To manifest in this way, and not in any other, implies meditation and choice. Why literature? Reflection will soon point out the obvious: the writer is someone transformed by it, and he writes because the objects of his admiration have done so.

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 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.