Tag: writing

If not necessary, it is at least healthy for the writer to periodically vary the style, format and genre to which he shapes his ideas. This is the case for countless reasons, starting with how stimulating it is to do so, and also with the gradual awareness of the expressive possibilities that are never exhausted. More than that: in this exercise, one discovers that there are more suitable places for ideas and ideas, and one avoids having to mix them all up—because they will certainly come varied in the creative mind—in a single format. The best thing, then, is to vary like Voltaire; and it is good for the writer to keep this in mind if he does not do it spontaneously.

When a draft is lost, but what was sketched persists in the memory, something interesting happens. We realize that it is possible to restore the draft by going back through the same stages of reasoning that led to it; but it is not possible to restore it word for word, exactly as it was. It can be seen, then, that something is lost in the process. It follows that we can say the same thing day after day, renewing it by the way we say it; however, the uniqueness of the moment in which it was said remains ingrained in it and, finally, the lost draft is really the moment that is gone…

In literature, it is just as useful to vary the style as it is in life to vary the thoughts. The risk of not doing so is to become addicted and diminished, narrowing horizons and dooming the next expression to be a replica of the previous one. To a certain extent, varying the style is also thinking differently, and the writer who gets used to doing this will be getting used to stimulating the brain so that it does not settle for what it has already conceived.

The writer is mistaken in assuming that he will transform his art by living the same mediocre life indefinitely. It is good to have no more than a corner to write in and, temporarily, that is enough. It is also good to stick to and get used to what is strictly necessary in order, above all, to distinguish it. But for there to be a transformation in art, and for it to be true, it must also take place in life, because therein lie the circumstances that will motivate his work, unless he betrays himself. It is therefore necessary to make an effort to modify and shape the whole of reality, as far as his strength allows; and if this does not produce satisfactory results, it will be from his conscious struggle that the best of his motivation will emerge.