?

Log in

[icon] writing is our only escape
View:Recent Entries.
View:Archive.
View:Friends.
View:Profile.
You're looking at the latest 10 entries.
Missed some entries? Then simply jump back 10 entries

Current Music:Twilight Zone
Current Location:Brooklyn, New York
Security:
Subject:Will Write for Food?
Time:05:10 pm
Current Mood:lazylazy
What follows verbatim is an e-mail posted to craigslist's "writing gigs" subscription list back on 5 June 2006. Written in response to several writers who had objected to the number of solicitations for writers to write for free (receiving, instead of payment, the glow that comes from having your work published or produced by organizations that advertise via craigslist), it sadly demonstrates how writers in particular, and artists as a whole, are perceived by many of the individuals who employ us.

I am getting a bit fed up with all these belly-aching writers. Of course writing is not profitable! It's an art! Can you imagine if all the painters and collage-makers complained as much as you do about not being rich? ...Listen "writers": you do it cause you love it. If you are looking to pay your rent then be a plumber. None of your favorite writers made a living doing what the world remembers them for, instead they were doctors (chekhov), or postal workers (bukowski), or installing air conditioners (vonnegut) ...writers who complain about not getting paid enough are like firemen who don't feel like people refer to them enough as heroes-- which is to say they are doing it for the wrong reasons. just because you write does not entitle you to literary attention-- it doesn't mean you are talented. i'm beginning to think it doesn't even mean you like writing.

so please, paying gigs and non-paying gigs-- keep 'em coming-- but can we try to keep the self-righteous whining to a minimum??


So the toils of plumbing, doctoring, postal work, and installing air conditioners are worthy of payment -- but not writing? And note how diabolically it's suggested that if you expect to be paid for your artwork, you're "doing it for the wrong reasons." Unfortunate, however, are the examples cited, as Chekhov, Bukowski, and Vonnegut all went on to enjoy lucrative writing careers.

They didn't achieve that status by accepting the wrongheaded notion that they should write for free.
comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment Share

Current Location:Brooklyn, New York
Security:
Subject:Contest to Rid Writer's Block!
Time:03:59 pm
Current Mood:productive
I've announced a small contest, designed to help overcome writer's block, over at my blog Mere Words. You're all invited to participate.
comments: Leave a comment Share

Security:
Subject:Writer's Block
Time:02:15 pm
I just posted some thoughts on writer's block over at my blog Mere Words. Your comments and thoughts on the subject are encouraged. Enjoy.
comments: Leave a comment Share

Security:
Time:05:10 am
i started a livejournal just for my poetry. if you've read my work before & liked it, make sure to check it out at: livejournal.com/~itsallinemotion

thanks guys & gals :)
comments: Leave a comment Share

Security:
Subject:Dancing in the Ghetto
Time:03:22 pm
Read more...Collapse )
comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment Share

Security:
Subject:Sanity
Time:10:38 pm
Seeping through the ironies of luck
Are the crooked smiles of lovers
Justified in their remorse, lamenting
For their once-cherished justice
And the movement of sound has
Devoured the bleeding hearts
Caught between the tragic embrace
Of the lovers’ crooked smiles

Crawling at a shattering pace
I am re-born into what I was
Fleeting sacrifices I have made
Were destined to be mistaken
As mistakes made for you

Trusted by those standing tall
On greased heels and firm knees
Facing the wind with a biting
Vengeance of sentimentality
And the movement of sound has
Enveloped those caught staring
Towards the fleeting abyss of
The lover’s skyward glare

Crawling at a shattering pace
I am re-born into what I was
Fleeting sacrifices I have made
Were destined to be mistaken
As mistakes made for you

And when I settled into dust
I was found to be unharmed
And I was not alone
I was not alone
comments: Leave a comment Share

Security:
Time:09:01 pm
[the end sucks. i just lost my focus and am to tired to honestly try]



this little heart can't take anymore
she's flooded and stuck.

no one can say
no one can see
how much the ground shakes beneath me.

binding breath and skating minds
have brought her to her knees.

she's easy
she's weak
she'll be sleeping street.

our discretion has ruined this love
fucking runaway train
comments: Leave a comment Share

Security:
Subject:MOD POST
Time:10:42 am
we still need more votes on take1torleave1t's application.
comments: Leave a comment Share

Security:
Time:04:17 pm
Current Mood:eh
supervene \soo-pur-VEEN\, intransitive verb:
1. to take place or occur as something additional, extraneous, or unexpected (sometimes followed by 'on' or 'upon').
2. to follow immediately after; to ensue.


... in most of my experiences with unexpected events none have been too wonderful. of course, there was the time my mom won $50k, that was unexpected and wonderful. sometimes i wish there could be a planned supervene, where everything in my life worked out. often, i think about how people go about their days as normal and then a supervenous event will change their life forever. like my uncle who got into a wreck and now has brain damage and must be taken care of by his 30 year old daughter. not all are that devestating, i suppose. how often to people wish they could go back moments before and change whatever happened? or is it possible to live without regrets completely?

[ugh, that was horrible. that's what i get for picking random words!

flaneur \flah-NUR\, noun:
One who strolls about aimlessly; a lounger; a loafer.

ah, strolling has to be a favorite passtime of mine. walking aimlessly can really help clear ones mind. it's amazing all of the things you can notice while ambling down a dirt path or quiet street. and, of course, the best time to do so is in the wee hours of the morning. there is so much that we are completely unware of because most are not actively outside at this time. usually, i get spooked by something and i love that feeling. and the things you think of while walking are incredible. the imagination is so powerful, and at the same time random. i used to walk at night with friends and we'd duck into bushes everytime a car would pass. that rush of "being caught" or just hiding was so thrilling and fun. and the spontaneous acts, mostly mischievous, in the spur of the moment could never be replaced by sleeping. sleeping is far too over rated. some of the best memories i have are carefully stepping around branches and other woodsy objects at my old house at three in the morning. though, sometimes it's a bit depressing and can wear on ones soul. i haven't done it much lately for this reason. as a matter of fact, i try to avoid aimlessly doing anything for fear of thinking too much. ironic.

[this one went much better. the subject was easier, i think. also, i could have turned out a lot more on both, but i'm having AIM conversations, too. bad me]
comments: Leave a comment Share

Security:
Subject:MOD POST
Time:04:14 pm
theme

open up a dictionary. choose a word and write about it for 10 minutes, non-stop. choose another word and do the same. choose a third and write 10 more minutes. although you have three different words, there may be a common thread running through them. look for it.

it seems simple and possibly dumb, but it's a great way to increase your vocabulary and think in a different way. have fun with it!

x_x
heart
Mir
comments: Leave a comment Share

[icon] writing is our only escape
View:Recent Entries.
View:Archive.
View:Friends.
View:Profile.
You're looking at the latest 10 entries.
Missed some entries? Then simply jump back 10 entries