The man stood in front of his easel, a brush held loosely in his right hand, staring at the blank canvas. Once, he indecisively brought his hand closer to the canvas, let it hover, and, a couple of seconds later, let his hand fall back. Setting the brush down, he picked up his cup of tea from the stool next to the easel and took a sip. The man was in his late sixties, had a lean build, and his head had a bald patch surrounded by greying hair.
As an artist/content producer, one of the first questions you should ask yourself is what message you want to share to the world? We should probably ask ourselves this question every day, for every piece we make, from the beginning of our careers up until the end, when we’re older and wiser. This way we can see how our priorities and internal vision changes throughout the years. Some people, no doubt, are less concerned with their message and more interested in fortune, fame, and stardom. They simply picture themselves up on the stage in front of thousands of screaming fans
Sometimes, I like to write short pieces based on a specific thought. This is a fun and interesting exercise, and a good way to express myself through the Stream of Consciousness style. Below are five examples I’ve been working on, enjoy! The Eagle and the Rat An eagle swoops down from above with great speed and agility, diving to the ground like a military jet. His eyes set. His form; a symbol of perfection. His target stands carefreely, munching on plant matter, as he always does. He takes his ultimate and final munch and swallows the life-giving nourishment through his tiny little throat...
Hello happy readers, lately I’ve been having a burning desire to read all of the classic texts, so I purchased The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. I’ll be honest with you all, I have read very little so far. It’s a very big book (over 1000 pages long!). I also bought about ten other books, plus I’ve been very busy with all of the end of the year mayhem that is still happening here in Colombia. I also published my two new series The Mad One and The Greatest Party!, nonetheless, I did manage to read Bells, which is a delightful poem, if I do say so myself. I love its flowing, rhythmic, rhyming prose and deep, thoughtful, mysterious message.
How many of us remember our grandparents, our great-grandparents, or those further back in our family’s history? In my family, I would say that the available knowledge on my ancestors, their roots, their personalities, their likes and dislikes, the mark they made in the world, is very slim. I wish I could learn more about them and know what they were really like, but time has washed over things and taken away most of the details, leaving behind only a vague memory of their existence.
Writing is just like one of those strange, elusive cats that stalk the outskirts of remote jungle villages in the heart of Papua New Guinea. While tribesmen munch on roots inside thatch huts and reminisce about hunting campaigns, smashing clubs on bamboo floors, and shaking shells ritualistically in harmony with the calls of nature that can be heard just outside their primitive homes, the cats growl from the thick bush, filling any listener with great wonder...
I sit in the cafe and see everyone looking down. I stand in the metro and see the same. I stroll down the city streets and watch as everyone walks around with devices in their hands. And I am currently writing to you from such a device, attempting to get you to put yours away for several hours a day… Instead of looking down - Look Up. Look at the amazing world you live in, not the digital world that exists in S-C-R-E-E-N-S.
Writing is a purely magical experience. The way it seems to be born from nothing, floating in from out of the blue. Words appear on a page, and ideas, concepts, and visions take shape before us. Writers use conscious and subconscious powers to weave words together until they form a complete whole. Analyzing and judging each letter - every punctuation mark. Their precise placement upon the page. Their overall appearance. Some artists paint with oils, acrylics or watercolors, but writers paint with words. Words which generate images within the reader’s mind.
We all know that it takes time, money and resources to create good, lasting art. Whether we’re talking about filmmaking, publishing a novel, or building a great architectural marvel like the Basilica of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona. But where would our art be if life and this world were absolutely perfect? If food fell freely from the skies.
Are you a jack of all trades and master of none? Moving from one hobby/profession to the next, in a never-ending whirlwind of wonder and glee, until you become bored, then switching to something new, as if it were a piece of out-of-date fashion. I know people like this and I also know professionals who are still employed at the same job that they got into since they were in high school
It's the most precious thing. Nowadays, we all look at content online and before clicking judge how much time it will take to consume. If it's long, we analyze its worth, using reviews from other consumers as a guide. Whatever is most popular (has the most clicks/hits/reviews) will surely be worth our time, right? As a budding writer, my goal is to express myself in a manner that doesn’t make you feel like you wasted your time.
What is this thing that curses the minds of countless ones? The thing that stalks us and follows us wherever we may be? Closing our eyes and paralyzing our fingers. Preventing any form of creativity to be released from within. Holding it there. Almost like a prisoner within a cell... There he is inside, begging, screaming, going absolutely berserk at this thing. This entity-like nuisance smacks him in the face, breaking his teeth, pushing him down.
I really can’t stand clickbait. When I see something online with an eye-catching image and headline that entices me to click on it, to unravel the seemingly indispensable life-changing content, I become disgusted. Because after clicking such a link, I realize that I was essentially tricked and cheated. The folks that employ clickbait into their arsenal of web-promoting business tactics are the worst to me. Duping countless ones
When we embark on the long and winding road of creativity, it’s only a matter of time until we create some duds. Call them what you will; flops, sinkers, stinkers, abominations, failures. It doesn’t matter what your medium is, you will make them. I will make them. Everyone, at some point will spawn a great and terrible disaster, even the so-called “masters” and ones who have “arrived” will make them.
Seeing that my last post about the incredible, thought-provoking book House Of Leaves had such a positive response, I decided to share another excerpt here. This remarkable passage is about a moment in the main character's journey where he must burn a book down to its very last page in order to finish reading it. This is so beautiful and dramatic to me, that no matter how many times I read it, I seem to learn something new and get in touch with odd feelings of emotion and wonder that are practically indescribable