The people Marcel loves are people in motion. Like Albertine - always speeding off somewhere on a bike, on a train, in a car, on a horse or flown out of the window; like Marcel's mother, perpetually on her way up the stairs to kiss him good night; like his grand mother, striding up and … Continue reading On the second paradox of Zeno
Literature
Shitty first drafts
“Very few writers really know what they are doing until they’ve done it.”
Shitty first drafts. All good writers write them. This is how they end up with good second drafts and terrific third drafts. People tend to look at successful writers who are getting their books published and maybe even doing well financially and think that they sit down at their desks every morning feeling like a million dollars, feeling great about who they are and how much talent they have and what a great story they have to tell; that they take in a few deep breaths, push back their sleeves, roll their necks a few times to get all the cricks out, and dive in, typing fully formed passages as fast as a court reporter. But this is just the fantasy of the uninitiated. I know some very great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits…
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Between absence and presence
A reading of Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami This is Mr Murakami's latest work, published in Japan in 2017, and translated by Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen (I guess: a tour de force). First of all, I must say that, in my view, this is Mr Murakami's most accomplished work thus far, a fascinating, … Continue reading Between absence and presence
Remains #writephoto
Remains He had come to the city, perhaps even unaware, only to write the story. It was about love, of course, or rather loves, lost, found again, unreconciled. That was two years back. The story, like a forgotten symphonie, was now left, unfinished, unpolished, and even, dare we say, unloved. Something, someone, was missing, … Continue reading Remains #writephoto
Au Luxembourg #5Words
Weekly Writing Prompt #96 She appears lost in thoughts, Perhaps about the poor poet, He who immortalised her... We do not know where She now lies, in peace. Here, the card says "Laure", But he knew her as Laura, So that there is a doubt, As to whether she was the one Who inspired … Continue reading Au Luxembourg #5Words
Lush #DailyPrompt #amwriting
There is plenty. Of everything: history, people, murders, treacheries, wars, horror and beauty. The world is a lush stage for the writer: a space where subjects abound, where heroes, villains, creators, liars, assassins wear the most amazing camouflages. Over all this, the dream machines reign supreme. The last man on Mars, the destruction of the … Continue reading Lush #DailyPrompt #amwriting
Ten (steps) #DailyPrompt #WritersWednesday
The prompt "Ten steps, you said, and, well, I'd like to know..." "It is simple, also we are in 2017 remember," she replied with her irresistible smile, "The hundredth anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution - remember Petrograd? But also 1517, five hundredth anniversary of the Reformation: Wittenberg, brother Martin, the revolt of the peasants, … Continue reading Ten (steps) #DailyPrompt #WritersWednesday
Pillage #DailyPrompt #WritersWednesday
So much to see, so little time... History walks along the quiet streets, ghosts hide in the corridors of museums: our steps resonate in the night, so much to explore... The story ripens, enriched by the findings, tombs of soldiers, standing knights in corners of baroque churches, damsels hidden in wooden scarves and dark mantels. … Continue reading Pillage #DailyPrompt #WritersWednesday
Culture #DailyPost
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. It's all that we have learnt, and forgotten. It's all that we remember, suddenly, as we walk through the woods, and see the castle, across the lake, which reminds us of beauty and the beast, of treasure island, of snow-white and her friends the … Continue reading Culture #DailyPost
From the mist #WritersWednesday
They emerge from the mist, slowly, their shapes and faces only taking colours once the first sun rays appear: they look hesitant, perhaps a little shy. They are not alone, small nebulae surround them: their memories, their secrets, their hopes, often encrypted, not yet readable. They don't speak, they appear to listen, to … Continue reading From the mist #WritersWednesday
