The following is an excerpt from the book 'On Writing' (On Writing) by Stephen King. An autobiography, which in turn contains a writing guide, published in 2000. I read this text a few months ago and to consider it quite right about what is actually writing. Enjoy.
WRITE WHAT
Telepathy of course. On second thought, has its charms: the people have spent years debating whether there is, there are characters such as JB Rhine have been puzzled to create a valid verification procedure to isolate you, and it has always been perfectly at sight, like Poe's purloined letter. All the arts depend upon telepathy to a greater or lesser extent, but I think that literature offers the purest distillation. You may be biased in their favor, but never mind: let's stay with the script, since it's what we have to think and talk.
My name is Stephen King, and write the first draft of the manuscript on my desk (which is placed where the roof down) a morning of snow in December 1997. I have several things in mind. Some are concerns (poor eyesight, have not started Christmas shopping, my wife has left home with a virus), others, however, are welcome (our youngest son has made a surprise visit from college, and a Wallflowers concert I went to play with them Brand New Cadillac of the Clash), but now takes precedence paperwork. I'm somewhere else, in a basement with bright and clear images. It has taken me many years construírmelo. Master a great perspective. I know that does not fit much with it being a basement, which is strange and contradictory, but I worked well. Another built his perch in a tree, or on the roof of the World Trade Center, or the rim of the Grand Canyon. There, each with their own preferences.
The publication of this book is scheduled for late summer or early fall of 2000. Confirmed the data, you, reader, you'll be certain chronological distance from me ... but it is very likely that you're on your own lookout, where you receive telepathic messages. It is not necessary, eh? Books are more portable magic exists. I usually listen to one in the car (always full version because the readings of texts shortcuts seem the height), and usually never leave without a book. You never know when apetecerá have a safety valve: LF queues at toll booths, the departure lounges of airports, laundromats on rainy afternoons, or worst of all: the doctor's office when it is delayed and you have to wait half an hour to torture you a sensitive part of your body. In and sometimes I find indispensable books. If I have to spend some time in purgatory before I send up or down, I anticipate that as long as I will not complain library. (Surely if there is will be full of Danielle Steel novels and cookbooks, ja ja, is for you, Steve.)
mean, I read whenever I can, but I have a place favorite reading, and sure you do too: a place with good light and good atmosphere. Mine is the blue chair in my study. You may prefer the couch, the rocking chair in the kitchen or the bed, reading in bed can be paradise, provided they are well lit page and not prone to throwing the coffee or cognac in the sheets.
Suppose, therefore, you are on your favorite reception venue, as I do on my transmission. Our mental communication exercise will be done in time, as well as in the distance, but hey, nothing happens: if we can still read Dickens, Shakespeare and (with the mediation of some notes) Herodotus, the distance between 1997 and 2000 does not seem insurmountable. Ready? go ahead with telepathy. You've probably noticed that I have nothing on the sleeves, and not move their lips. It is very likely that you either.
Look at this table covered with a red cloth. Above is a cage the size of a fishbowl. Contains a white rabbit with pink nose and eye rims the same color. The rabbit has a piece of carrot on the front paws and chews with relish. Drawn on the back takes eight legibly in blue ink.
Are we seeing the same thing? To be certain of all we should get together and compare our notes, but I think so. Of course it is inevitable that there are some variations: some receivers will see a maroon cloth, and more alive. (The recipient will see ash gray color blind.) Some see the decorations on edge of the fabric. Decorative souls have added a little lace, and are free to do so. My tablecloth is yours.
Following the same principle, the issue of cage leaves much room for individual interpretation. To begin with, has been described by a "comparison inaccurate", which will become operational only if we see the world and measure things with similar criteria. When making comparisons imprecise is easy to fall into disrepair, but the alternative is twee attention to detail that takes all the fun to writing. What would he have said? What "is a cage over a meter deep, two feet in width and fourteen inches high "? More than prose would be an instruction manual. The paragraph also specifies the material of the cage. Wire "? Steel Bar "? "Crystal? Does it matter? We all understand that the cage is an object that allows you to view its contents. Otherwise we are indifferent. In fact, the most interesting thing is not even the rabbits eating carrots, but the number back. There is a six, a four, or a nineteen point five. It's an eight. Is the focal point, and we will see them. I have not said or what you've asked me. I have not opened my mouth, nor you yours. Not even agree on the year, let alone in the room. And yet we're together. Very close.
have touched our minds.
I have sent you a table with a red cloth, a cage, a council and a number eight in blue ink. You have received everything, and first of eight blue. We starred in an act of telepathy. Telepathy really, eh? Without chorraditas mystical. I will not give up on the above, but continue to be fore like to make a point: not that I do the ready, is there anything to expose.
The act of writing can be addressed nervousness, excitement, hope and even desperation (when you sense that you can not write everything in your head and heart). It can face the blank page, clenching his fists and closed eyes, wanting to deliver blows and put names and surnames, or because you want to marry a girl, or want to change the world. Everything is permissible while not taken lightly. I repeat: do not approach the blank page lightly.
do not ask you do it with reverence, not critically. Nor do I mean you have to be politically correct or parked ect humor (hopefully you!). It is no popularity contest, nor the moral Olympics, nor is any church, but damn, this is writing, no washing the car or put mascara. If you are able to take it seriously, we'll talk. If you can not or do not want to close the book and dedicate yourself to something else.
A car wash, for example.
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