Yes. You can do it!!!
To sit down to write thinking that writing will take
away your hunger, will attenuate your loneliness and will make your desire vanish. Writing sipping from time-to-time sips of a glass of cheap red wine,
because this job of "Creator of Stories" does not provides for
memorable wines as you thought a few years ago.
To write with the awareness that one of these days a sublime inspiration will come to you and you will write, without eating and without sleeping, a magnificent book, as if being dictated by an Angel and by a Demon; a book that will take you out of being poor. And then, after that first one, to be followed by a second, equally good or even better; then another, then a fourth; and before you turn seventy-four, to have at less seven good master pieces; and for them you deserve a modest recognition, maybe the Pulitzer Prize or the Booker Prize, why not a literature recognition in France; so that at seventy-eight to become an undisputed candidate for the Nobel. Feeling that Munro and Márquez were too small compared with you, that you are already have almost accomplished the craftmanship as Kafka and Dostoevsky, that Murakami and Ishiguro stayed far away, down there, dull; because they never found the formula that you found, the one that made your texts to have a mysterious hook to catch the reader who dared to peek at the first page of your books, to chain him to your texts like a mosquito to flypaper. To write every day, every afternoon, every night when the writer´s "Mood" hits you, even if you realize that you went from wine to tequila and then to brandy, and over time you have become a lost drunk. Yes, a drunk, but an educated drunk, a drunk writer, which is not the same thing. A true “Ivrogne”, almost like the author of The Old Man and the Sea, or like Bukowski, who, in addition of being drunk, was foul-mouthed.
To recognize that the formula was easy, easy and
simple for you to be awarded a much more global recognition than that of the atmospheric
changes, to be able to grab those awards that take you from one country to
another, from a conference room to a bookstore or to a library of which few
already exist, to talk about your experiences, to explain how you became a
writer; you who came out from the mud, from a city of floods and potholes; to
talk about how modesty and your daily effort did its magic, in addition to the
hundreds of blows that life gave you, to make of yourself a famous writer, one
of memorable phrases that will remain for generations to come; and that your
formula, just as it turned out for you, can be of benefit to others for them to
achieve their plans and have success and money; and then with money to get
everything they want, EVERYTHING; so you will not patent it and you prefer to
leave it in this text with large and clear letters.
Just
stop fuck #$%&$% yourself!!!
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