It strikes me that today all of our publicly accepted myths are propped up and support profit, for someone, some entity, institution or other. As we fear the commodification of everything, everything, as can be found in the stories we turn to to give our lives meaning, has already been commodified. All the bluster thatContinue reading “All of our myths”
Tag Archives: literature
One more cross-post: Write without disappointment
A continuation, building on yesterday’s post, further meditations on writing. I’ve written about the role of disappointment in my own life and the way understanding this was the key to breaking free of anxiety. In a recent conversation on writing I was brought to the point of considering how an attitude with or without disappointmentContinue reading “One more cross-post: Write without disappointment”
A cross-post: A conversation on Fiction, or a fictional conversation…
Have you ever wished, after a good long talk, you had thought to record it? There’s a specific quality to the way we express ourselves in conversation, to the spacing and timing of what gets said, when, and how. In fiction it is always a wonder to read a conversation and have it ring true.Continue reading “A cross-post: A conversation on Fiction, or a fictional conversation…”
“Fishing in the Swamp,” a cross-post from Antonio Dias Fiction
This post, at The Living Notebook gave me the title and the impetus to write on this subject here. The line comes from Hemingway and TLN – I’m sorry, but the blog appears to be anonymous and I don’t have the writer’s name… – uses it to weave a connection between two approaches to writing.Continue reading ““Fishing in the Swamp,” a cross-post from Antonio Dias Fiction”
A cross post from A D Fiction
A few thoughts on plot… As an introduction to my new site, a home for my Fiction, Short Stories, Memoir, and Writing on Writing; I urge you to follow the link to read my first post of “Writing On Writing.” You might want to look around at the rest while you’re there.
The Forge of Language
Sometimes writing is an act of excavation. Sometimes it is digging things up. Sometimes it is digging one’s self out…. What is writing? What is it for? Why? How? Once asked, these questions proliferate. Looming over them all, Why ask? Who is asking? These all circle around and bring us back to language.