Good day, gorgeous people of the Powell's literati:
This is the last day I'll be yakking at you here. Thanks for letting me ramble a bit. And thanks for those of you who've been popping me emails about these posts. When you lob content onto the Internet, it's nice to know that people are taking the time to read. You rule!!
I know I've already said some of this in earlier posts this week, but I've never been afraid to repeat myself. So if you're an aspiring writer, here's what I'm hoping you do:
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Write recklessly.
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Feel completely liberated from quality control in your early drafts. Be like an improvising musician; there's plenty of time to clean things up in subsequent revisions.
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The best writers I know are relaxed authors. Have fun on the page. It makes all the difference in the world. Trust me.
Now go brew that coffee, crank that rock and roll, and let your imagination loose from its cage. Let it ravage the city. Decimate the village. Let it smash the kneecaps of every oppressor in sight!
All my best,
Josh
[email protected]
"paris, 2009" (part 5: conclusion)
The street artist arrived home three hours later, and his wife said, "How many did you do today?" She didn't notice the damage on his face. Or she didn't care.
"Six." He threw his supplies down on the kitchen table.
"That's it?"
"It was windy."
"Rent is due next week and you're complaining about wind," his wife said.
"I'm not complaining about wind."
"It wasn't windy."
"Should I go back out?" he asked.
"Just feed your son so I can get off my feet for awhile."
"What's he having for dinner?"
"Like you don't know," she said. "But go ask him." She walked out to take a shower.
He went into the TV room where his son was watching America's Funniest Home Videos. He sat down next to him. "How are you?"
His son didn't answer. His face needed to be shaved.
"How are you doing?" he said again.
"Good. Spaghetti."
"You want spaghetti for dinner?"
"Good spaghetti," his son said and kept looking at the TV.
The street artist didn't get up right away to put water on to boil for the noodles. Instead he sat next to his son and watched the funniest home videos and wondered if it was windy in Paris.