There Is, in Fact, a Satisfaction Experienced

There is, in fact, a satisfaction experienced at the end of the painstaking writing of a book that is not limited to the feeling that “it’s finally over”. When one has been on this path for some time, and the vow has been sufficiently justified and affirmed, and one’s spirit has therefore moved away from the excitement of novelty and testing, each piece of work that comes to fruition is a step forward towards the primary objective that motivated the decision to write. When the decision was deliberate, it was only a glimpse of the possible results which, gradually, with each piece of writing, finally materialize and make the initial plan a reality. In this way, one experiences the “finally”, but one also experiences the feeling that one has fantasized less.

The Beginning

It seems that the outcome of any artistic project is fundamentally dependent on the enthusiasm and vigor with which it is started. The spirit with which this start is imbued is decisive. For a bad or weak start, there is not much to be done, while a vigorous start can be extended by manual labor and simple discipline. That is why it is so important to do the ideation separately, at a time that precedes the execution. In this way, one can take advantage of the unsurpassable stimulus of those moments when the idea is ready and seems to explode.

Creative Work

Creative work essentially depends on two things: (1) the ability to stimulate, allow and grasp new ideas and (2) the ability to make the most of them. In the first case, we briefly have intellectual effort and attention, qualities that, even if unintentionally, are incited by the simple desire to create. In the second case, there is something more costly, and perhaps the biggest difference between the fruitful artist and the unfruitful one lies precisely in this: in the ability to put their ideas into practice, not letting them get lost and go as naturally as they came. This ability is simply the ability to act. From this it can be seen that creative work, in order to be effective, requires not only ideas, conceiving them and capturing them—something that can be done effortlessly—but it also requires a state of mind that can be summed up in a permanent readiness for action.

The Best Solution to Overcome…

Undoubtedly, the best solution to overcome the very painful work of revision is that of Fernando Pessoa: never revise anything, and never set the task of giving a definitive form to what one has written. So obvious, so evident… and yet it seems the most foolish of decisions. If every profession has its hardships, some of which can only be endured in the long term by those who have the vocation to exercise it, perhaps none is more frequent for the writer than to come across a bad piece of work. Unlike other professions, in which the results and effectiveness of the work are easily measurable, and therefore it is easier to perceive an evolution in technique and the positive effects of experience, the work of the writer seems always fated to be seen as unsatisfactory by his own lenses, something that becomes violently evident in the revision process. Revising long texts, one learns that the most elementary errors in writing are invincible because, among other various reasons, attention never remains constant over a long period. And so, for his psychological satisfaction, it is best for the writer never to revise; otherwise, he will be forced to regularly take very hard lessons.