- *dreams about writing novel*
- *thinks about writing novel*
- *plans novel*
- *drinks coffee while planning more of the novel*
- *finally sits down to write novel*
- *stares at computer screen for hours instead of writing the novel*
- *writes this text post about how not to do the novel*
Hunger, a poet once said, is the most important thing we know the first lesson we learn. But hunger can be easily quieted down, easily satiated. There is another force, a different type of hunger, an unquenchable thirst that cannot be extinguished. It’s very existence is what defines us, what makes us human. That force is love.
Love, you see, is the one force that cannot be explained, cannot be broken down into a chemical process. It is the beacon that guides us back home when no one is there, and the light that illuminates our loss. It’s absence robs us of all pleasure, of our capacity for joy. It makes out nights darker and our days gloomier. But when we find love no matter how wrong, how sad, or how terrible, we cling to it. It gives us our strength. It holds us upright. It feeds on us, and we feed on it.
Love is our grace. Love is our downfall."
— The Strain, Guillermo del Toro (via ghostheart)
Those writers you think are masters of the craft aren’t created that way. They aren’t supernaturally capable ninja writer-bots. When you read the work of a writer operating at the top of her game, you’re not seeing all the years of failed efforts, of work that wasn’t quite right, of work that was well-intentioned or built off of strong ideas but had slick and wobbly legs like a newborn fawn.
You see the author operating at a high level and you wonder: why am I not doing that?
The reality is:
You’re only seeing the island, not the heap of volcanic material that pushed it out of the sea."
— Chuck Wendig - "Polling Your Intestinal Flora: How A Writer Cultivates Instinct" (via likeatumbleweed)