“An artist is always alone – if he is an artist.” – Henry Miller
Writing is a lonely job, no doubt about it. And no matter how successful you might become, you’re still alone. It’s the inexorable truth of the writer’s condition: you sit at your desk, in an empty room or in the most crowded coffee shop, yet you’re alone. You just do your thing.
Of course, this poses a rather interesting question: if you spend that much time alone, how do you find stuff to write about?
Continue reading “TMM: A Lonely Job”
Some people like to write late at night. When they’re all by themselves. When there’s nothing but silence. Utter silence. Heartbreakingly quiet.
Others like to write early in the morning.
Or mid afternoon. At a crowded cafe.
Or on a bus. Scribbling on a notepad.
This is not about the different habits, this is about the fact that habits are just that: stuff you get used to doing to such an extent that you cannot imagine it doing any other way.
Continue reading “TMM: It’s Not At All About Midnights”
“Why is it that the words we write for ourselves are always better than the words we write for others?” – Finding Forrester
The truth is that writers write for a million different reasons. Maybe they even write for no reason at all. But I believe that it happens to every writer to write at least a short story, a poem, a play, something with no expectations at all. Just because. Just for the fun of it.
Continue reading “TMM: Untitled Post”
a second self or different version of oneself, such as
a :a trusted friend
b :the opposite side of a personality – Clark Kent and his alter ego Superman
c: a fictional character that is the author’s alter ego
Literature is the lie that tells the truth. Or so they say. That’s why sometimes writers choose to use alter egos. Ernest Hemingway wrote the so-called Nick Adams stories, John Updike had Rabbit Angstrom and Henry Bech, Bukowski had Henry Chinaski.
But why? Continue reading “TMM: alter ego”
“OK, I got Velazquez portrait of the Pope Innocent X. Quite an ambivalent study of absolute power. And here comes Francis Bacon. Despite never having seen this painting in person, Bacon became so obsessed with it that he compulsively repainted it over and over again, each version more horrific than the previous. […] It’s not until an artist finds his obsession that he can create his most inspired work.” – Anamorph
Continue reading “Art and Obsession”
Words are powerful. They can create, they can destroy. They can motivate, inspire, offer a bit of comfort to those in need.
I use words in written form because they are almost set in stone.
They leave a trail behind.
It’s such a definitive action, don’t you think?
But it’s not the only reason.
I write because I think we’re all made of stories. I’d like to find out what my story is.
Continue reading “TMM: Writing”
Life and art are incredibly close to one another. Almost identical, but not quite. Like a parallel dimension, like an alternate universe, art has always been the number one destination for those who cannot find a place in a certain society.
But art and sex? Continue reading “TMM: Sex and Art”