What’s this about Love & Creativity?
If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you are only half a writer.
Work with love and think of liking it when you do it.
I think I’m pretty mushy and I accept the greasy mystery of love.
Self-love is a bigger hurdle for me, but I figure that’s part of the nonsense that we’ve got to get through to really embrace life.
But when I read two separate writers — of the same generation, granted — talk about the importance of Love for a pure state of writing, I start feeling twitchy and contrary.
What are you trying to say? If I’m not filled with a full and open love when I turn to the blank age I’m not going to cut it as a writer? Like there’s some inner sanctuary where the pure souls dip into the creative pool and rise infused with inspiration?
That sounds fucked up.
What about the bitter and angry person who wants to vent with venom? Or the steady, dutiful writer who logs in the hours every day and keeps putting one foot after the other? What about the fanciful drifter who tells a story of waste and wanton despair?
Those can be art with just as much purity as the writing of the love-infused savant.
The writer doesn’t need Love. He needs to be Fearless and Clear-sighted. He needs to be infused with Purpose. And he needs to have the strength to stay in the place where the true words come from, no matter what the consequences.