This is nautical Greek Island decor in Mim's Mediterranean Restaurant outside of Petoskey. It has absolutely nothing to do with this night's post; I just like the colors.
In the same recent Paris Review as last night's post there is another interview, this on with a well-regarded French writer whose work I do not know, Emmanuel Carrere.
I was so struck by this piece of writer's advice, I thought I would share it here.
In the novel [Bravoure] you mention a writing exercise. Have you done it?
It's a piece of advice given by the German Romantic Ludwig Borne. "For three successive days, force yourself to write, without denaturalizing or hypocrisy, everything that crosses your mind. Write what you think of yourself, your wives, Goethe, the Turkish war, the Last Judgment, your superiors and you will be stupefied to see how many new thoughts have poured forth.. That is what constitutes the art of becoming an original writer in three days."
I continue to find this excellent advice. Today, still, when I'm not working on anything, I'll take a notebook and for a few hours a day I'll just write whatever comes. about my life, my wife, the elections, trying not to censor myself. That's the real problem obviously---"without denaturalizing or hypocrisy." Without being afraid of what is shameful or what you consider uninteresting, not worthy of being written. It's the same principle behind psychoanalysis. It's just as hard to do and just as worth it, in my oprinion. Everything you think is worth writing, Not necessarily worth keeping, but worth writing, And fundamentally, that's what a large part of literature attempts to do---reproduce the flow of thought. Well, at least the literature I love the most, Montaigne, Sterne, Diderot. . . "
Emmaneul Carrere interviewed by Susannah Hunnewell in Paris Review 206, page 103.
I got out one of those black-and-white-cover school notebooks today, and picked the pen that is easy for me to write with, but haven't had the nerve to try it yet.
Instead, I'm reading another of Blake Bailey's books about alcoholic male writers. This is his third one, Farther and Wilder, which treats the author of The Lost Weekend in gripping and compassionate yet clear-eyed fashion. These are great biographies, well-researched and well-written, and have won all sorts of awards. If you can keep from being depressed by the subject matter, they make compelling reading,
Perhaps tomorrow, I will find out some of what I really think. . . . . . .