so you want to be a writer?
by Charles Bukowski
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.
don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.
don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
TABLE FOR ONE
Table For One is a photo blog dedicated to the solo diner. It's caused a bit of a kerfuffle, angering many with its apparent mean-spiritness.
Part of me agrees. It does seem cruel to sneakily snap photos of old men and laugh at their loneliness: "Ha ha! Look at that old guy! His wife probably died! What a dork! Ha ha ha ha ha!"
But I don't think that that's the point. I think it's more about documenting a solitary moment...
All this reminds me of this scene from The Lonely Guy.
Part of me agrees. It does seem cruel to sneakily snap photos of old men and laugh at their loneliness: "Ha ha! Look at that old guy! His wife probably died! What a dork! Ha ha ha ha ha!"
But I don't think that that's the point. I think it's more about documenting a solitary moment...
I've been eating out a lot recently (for reasons I won't bore you with) and, because I have no friends, I've often had to dine alone. People think this behaviour is sociopathic, but I quite enjoy it - just like I enjoy going to the cinema and playing basketball solo too.
Of course it's more fun with a friend, but sometimes alone time can be chicken soup for the soul.
Top tip: There's only so long you can pretend to be busy on your phone so bring something to read if you're dining without company.
RUBBLE KINGS
I've always loved the style of 1970s New York street gangs. This new doc looks great...
"From 1968 to 1975, gangs ruled New York City. Beyond the idealistic hopes of the civil rights movement lay a unfocused rage. Neither law enforcement nor social agency could end the escalating bloodshed. Peace came only through the most unlikely and courageous of events that would change the world for generations to come by giving birth to hip-hop culture..."
Labels:
80 BLOCKS FROM TIFFANY'S,
GANGSTERS,
NEW YORK CITY,
RAP
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