The Writer's Life: Film & Book Reviews, Observations, and Stories
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On Spontaneity

Jean Rhys, the author of Wide Sargasso Sea, one of the major novels of the last century, said that the adulation from its publication “came too late.” By that she meant her bitterness at not finding an audience in the prior years had undermined her sense of self to the point where no amount of praise could fix it. Every serious writer without an audience understands this sentiment all too well. I suspect that many successful writers do as well. Whenever I look into Cormac McCarthy’s eyes staring at me from one of his book covers, I have to look away. That stare is too frightening. He has looked into the void too long. There is only one antidote to such brooding. Laughter. Unrestrained, boisterous, spontaneous laughter. Throwing caution to the wind and speaking one’s mind. Not rehearsing a single word. Trusting oneself enough to know that you are allowed to be wholly and completely yourself.

Easy to say but hard to do, you say?


It takes real courage to be true to yourself. But is the stultifying alternative worth the boredom of measuring everything you say against how it will be received? Of never speaking your mind? Not once ever expressing the deepest feelings in your heart?

December 21, 2007   Comments Off on On Spontaneity