Friday, July 21, 2017

Ernest Hemingway. On Writing.

MICE: How can a writer train himself?
Y.C.: Watch what happens today. If we get into a fish see exactly what it is that everyone does. If you get a kick out of it while he is jumping remember back until you see exactly what the action was that gave you the emotion. Whether it was the rising of the line from the water and the way it tightened like a fiddle string until drops started from it, or the way he smashed and threw water when he jumped. Remember what the noises were and what was said. Find what gave you the emotion; what the action was that gave you the excitement. Then write it down making it clear so the reader will see it too and have the same feeling that you had. That’s a five finger exercise.
MICE: All right.
Y.C.: Then get in somebody else’s head for a change. If I bawl you out try to figure what I’m thinking about as well as how you feel about it. If Carlos curses Juan think what both their sides of it are. Don’t just think who is right. As a man things are as they should or shouldn’t be. As a man you know who is right and who is wrong. You have to make decisions and enforce them. As a writer you should not judge. You should understand.
MICE: All right.
Y.C.: Listen now. When people talk listen completely. Don’t be thinking what you’re going to say. Most people never listen. Nor do they observe. You should be able to go into a room and when you come out know everything that you saw there and not only that. If that room gave you any feeling you should know exactly what it was that gave you that feeling. Try that for practice. When you’re in town stand outside the theatre and see how the people differ in the way they get out of taxis or motor cars. There are a thousand ways to practice. And always think of other people.

Thursday, February 2, 2017

The Coming Storm

Sometimes the storm, it's just coming.
No matter what you do.
And you can see it coming.
The skies darkening. 
The storm clouds gathering.
The change in the winds.
And you can feel it coming.
In your knees.
In your gut.
A twitch that won't go away, deep down inside.
It's like depression.
When you can see all the signs.
When you can literally feel it closing around you.
And you still can't do a damned thing about it.
And then, it is upon you.
The darkness crackles and burns.
The skies open up, releasing a pounding cold soaking rain.
The winds roar around and through you.
Then. Quiet?
The clouds fall away.
A ray of sunshine tentatively peaks.
Then another.
You unfurl from your protective crouch.
And stretch out your arms to the sky.