writing, suffering

yet another thing to say about writing.
i can't remember the author, but years and years ago i read this sentence: "Every art comes out from suffering". i believe it. by which i don't mean that art can speak only about pain - it's just the creative process: it comes from suffering, just it. when you are a poet, and you want to write about happiness, is because it sounds sooo strange in front of the usual pain that pushes your hand to write down on the paper. nobody has ever spoken about happiness, like the ones who really deeply suffered.

lately i've been very happy, lately i did not write. today, a totally accidental fact made me suffer deeply, and i wrote. i wrote two posts. every art comes out from suffering. that is damn right.

writing, living

i did not write for a while on the blog, and when i think about it, i realize that i did not write cause i LIVED a lot. holidays, work, then holidays again, then work again, and in the meanwhile packaging a whole house, and thousands of kilometres done, both phisically and spiritually.

maybe it's just the old story: writers have to chose - live or write, trick or treat.
in a novel by Graham Greene, The Comedians, i read last week: "They say that for writers it is always the first twenty years of life that contain the whole experience—the rest is observation". here it is: twety years of living, and then all the rest of time of writing. maybe we can talk about it in percentage: 20% of living, 80% of writing, but it could be reductionist.

the fact is: to write, you need to cut yourself off the world, to sit down in a silent and empty room, you the paper the pen the flowing of your thoughts the ghosts of your fears the things you love more the people you hate your secret desires and all the rest.
if life enters the room, you just let the pen fall.