Wednesday, October 26, 2011

My writing really does come in waves; as cliched as it sounds. At the beginning of 2011 i couldn't stop myself from writing, there were times i had to fight my urge to get up from bed and start pounding away on the typewriter. But now, i have to fight each and every paragraph to help my sad little stories chug along in some sorta of pathetic progression.

I think any form of art is a work. But as a writer i feel little pride in things i really had to fight for to make sense to someone else. In painting i think any sort of abstractedness can be named art if given the right name. In writing if your words are not precise, in spelling or grammar or other sorts of error you can easily be named a failure.

Jackson Pollack had no qualms about making painting as easy as it can get. But there is no substitute for awfulness when it comes to writing. There is no Jackson Pollack when it comes to words.

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