Fortune or chance did I was given the privilege of participating in a panel discussion on blogs and literature. My conversation partner was the driver-writer who has a successful blog " not free or occupied." A taxi driver who discovers stories poet in his car in the streets of Madrid, in conversation with their passengers but also their silences, objects forgotten in the back seat, in the equation linking the starting point with the end point of travel of the taxi. After listening, I had no doubt that the best profession for a writer is a taxi driver. Or
postman: a lady of the public said that was his work and said all the stories that could be taken up with each letter or read each card. Or
librarian: the beautiful girl in the library, said all the stories that imagine after listening to users and their strange selection of books.
A writer as well as read a lot, should engage in professions such as these: librarians, postal workers, taxi drivers. Ideal locations for detailed observation and others blatant. Places where stories are born.
Kafka was a clerk.
I had an uncle / grandfather telegrapher who wrote two novels that I have not read.
A writer unemployed or employed in a profession of those who trample nefarious creativity must find ways of being in those places where stories are born. For my part, I try to spend much time at the salon or on buses. In the ministries and train stations. In the squares and public restrooms. But he also spent long hours looking through the intimacies that are scattered in cyberspace network in the form of photos, blogs, avatars, comments. I sail that swarm of foreign voices and anonymous. Valley stories with nothing, the unattainable, wireless.
postman: a lady of the public said that was his work and said all the stories that could be taken up with each letter or read each card. Or
librarian: the beautiful girl in the library, said all the stories that imagine after listening to users and their strange selection of books.
A writer as well as read a lot, should engage in professions such as these: librarians, postal workers, taxi drivers. Ideal locations for detailed observation and others blatant. Places where stories are born.
Kafka was a clerk.
I had an uncle / grandfather telegrapher who wrote two novels that I have not read.
A writer unemployed or employed in a profession of those who trample nefarious creativity must find ways of being in those places where stories are born. For my part, I try to spend much time at the salon or on buses. In the ministries and train stations. In the squares and public restrooms. But he also spent long hours looking through the intimacies that are scattered in cyberspace network in the form of photos, blogs, avatars, comments. I sail that swarm of foreign voices and anonymous. Valley stories with nothing, the unattainable, wireless.
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