From my blog yesterday:
I’m trying to find the secret. The ingredient. Medusa’s toilet-flushed foetus, the charred left wing of the pheonix, a mermaid’s labia minora and the matted grey fur of the Yeti’s right foot. Fuck shit. I just want to know how to write something brilliant. Everything I write comes to nadda. Nothing. Nought. Zero. I want it to MEAN something. I want it to exist. On paper, in ink, in the curves of my spine and behind the cloudy cateracts in my cancerous future. I want I want I want.
From a certain photographer: validation
From a certain poet and editor: to be immortalized
What do YOU want?
Here’s a wonderful post on inspiration by Jeff Vandermeer:
And check these out:
A selection of poetry by Peter Schwartz:
And a new story by Neil Ayres:
“At its very best, writing is a very Savant-like art form. All of our labor is spent guiding the boulder through small course corrections down the hill rather than forcing it to roll back up.” – Matt Moody