A writer disappears into his books.
It is a familiar story.
And a familiar paradox.
If a man does not disappear into his books
They will not be written.
A judicious voice says, a balance must be struck.
But we are talking Creativity.
It is in the same category as Love and War.
If a man is to write a million words
Then he must disappear into his books.
He will not always be available.
Marriages will strain, children be neglected.
A woman can disappear into her books too
But not as readily.
Maybe she is more tethered to the world.
Maybe that’s it.
“Writers are desperate people
and when they stop being desperate they stop being
writers.” ~Charles Bukowski
“Quiet desperation is a life not worth
the writing. Best to go out with a bang.”
~ Me
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so true: writing, real writing, requires real commitment; it’s not something you can be half-hearted about; even the humorous pieces require this
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I am always disappearing into my books. I love them. I’m a total bookworm. A true bibliophile. And I’m trying to get back into my art box again.
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