It has been said—by Pessoa?—that the artist must use all the means at his disposal to give light to his own work. Otherwise, the difficulties will not be overcome and, probably, the work will not come out. It is necessary for the artist to build a favorable environment, to mold his life around the central objective; to have a daily schedule reserved for his work, a schedule that represents the core of his routine and to which he arrives every day in his best disposition. This for years, for as long as he lives—always aware, as Pessoa himself was, of inhabiting the present while belonging fully to the future.
Tag: writing
Routine and Planning
The positive effects of routine and planning in the execution of difficult and time-consuming work cannot be overstated. One could say that both are mandatory, if there were not, as always, exceptions that invalidate the rule. Planning transforms the immensity of the work into small tasks; thanks to it, there is no thinking when one should simply execute; it facilitates, directs the effort, illuminates the path to be taken, prevents from beforehand unjustified frustrations—and the list could be endless. Of routine, needless to say of the force of habit: routine represents the anticipated victory over all psychological barriers; it is the certainty of advancement and the conversion of the effectiveness of planning into a matter of time. In short: routine and planning are weapons that sweep away difficulties and ensure focus on the final goal.
The Professional Writer Is Obliged to Have a Pen at Hand
The professional writer is obliged to have a pen and a notepad at hand at all times,—whether awake or asleep,—physical or virtual. Otherwise, he will lose most of his ideas, his work will suffer, and he will not be worthy of the professional epithet. Stories takes shape, solutions are found when conscious reasoning rests and the brain works quietly. Unexpectedly, although predictably, it manifests itself, so the professional must immediately register the manifestation, otherwise he tends to lose it. Cherishing his own work, the writer will never allow himself the luxury of wasting his moments of inspiration.
Building a Fragmentary Work
The thinker gains a lot by choosing, as Nietzsche and Cioran did, to build a fragmentary work. Letting go of the presumptuous and counterproductive delirium of attainable unity, i.e., of supposedly attainable perfection, the thinker can concentrate on conferring precision and potency to small fragments. Moreover, the superiority of a collection of aphorisms over an essay is indisputable: the latter hardly ever justifies rereading; the former’s innate multiplicity makes complete assimilation impossible all at once. Furthermore: building in fragments makes it possible to precisely settle the disparate and complicated mental movements, while developing and deepening a single reasoning certainly imposes a limit—that is, it forces the mind to dismiss a large part of its manifestations.