Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

January 13, 2012

Letter to a Young Author

Filed under: Beauty,Love,Uncategorized,Vocation,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 10:55 am

Friend,

I am glad to hear about the joy you’ve found in writing. You ask if this is not a sign that you are meant to make of writing your life’s occupation. I don’t know. Is writing your vocation? If I may borrow the words from another author friend: “Vocation is the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s great need.” You have found gladness, but are you writing to the world’s great need? The world’s great need will be met when you write the one novel you came into this world to write. It is the one that scares you the most, the one you think no one will publish and if it is published then no one will read and if it is read then no one will understand, except perhaps another soul like yours. Spend your life trying to write this one book. You may never get there. What matters is that you get closer and closer to it with every book you write. Direct your life so that on your deathbed you can say I never gave up trying. Don’t be afraid of failure. And if you fail, look for the door that opens to the place you were looking for all along. Have the courage to write with beauty. Let your prose strain towards poetry. Sometimes there is no other way to say what you need to say. But remember always the honest beauty of bread and water. Believe in the invisible. Have an unshakeable faith in the existence of the soul, yours and the person you write for. If people call your writing religious because of this, so be it. Find others who have made or are on the same journey and cherish them as fellow travelers. Rejoice in their effort as if it were your own. There is no room for envy on this trip. Build a harbor to protect your gift, but make sure your daily catch comes from the open ocean. Find a job that can be friends with and not jealous of your vocation. If you are fortunate enough to make a living from your writing, you’ll need to be even more attentive to your calling, for its voice is hard to hear amidst the clanging of praise. Be lighthearted but don’t forget the seriousness of it all. The tragedy and glory of life is that it can be squandered and loss and waste are real. Be humble. Let your vocation be a prayer no one hears but you. Important as your writing is, it is not your whole purpose. Most of all, be open to love and be grateful for it in whatever form it comes. And if love doesn’t come, love nevertheless. Love, its gladness and its pain, will show you what the world most needs.

December 11, 2011

Canyons

Filed under: Nature,Poems,Prayer,Uncategorized — Francisco Stork @ 3:06 pm

The wind and rain
Carve out our days
With whispers of eternity.

Why we are hollowed
Is not a question.
The plain earth seeks
Its own treasure
And quickens beauty’s work
By waiting.

The wind’s unspoken prayer
The tip-toe and the torrent of the rain
Melt our hardened rock
Into love’s space.

How will we bear
Infinity
This wound of time
Resplendent.

We will draw
To our inverted climb
To our perilous descent
The bold explorer’s step
The friend of wind and rain.

November 27, 2011

Feeding the Soul

Filed under: Soul,Uncategorized,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 2:59 pm

I got an e-mail recently from a seventy-year-old woman. She said, “your writing fed my soul.” I was so touched by her words. I also had this funny sense of both knowing and not knowing what she meant. I hope that we all have had at some point in our lives the sensation of having our soul nourished by a work of fiction. How it happens or when it happens is all kind of magical. Nor, in my experience, is there a particular kind of book that triggers this peculiar satisfaction. I say “peculiar” because unlike eating real food, this food is a funny mixture of contentment and yearning. Paradoxically, it “feeds” by awakening a kind of aspiration that is and is not like hunger. Sometimes I wonder whether an author can consciously write for the reader’s soul. There may be authors out there who can, but they play with fire. I’m sticking to the Zen archer’s humble rule: aim to the side and let the target hit the arrow, if it wants to. And then there is this disturbing question: is there any relationship between writing FOR the soul and writing FROM the soul? That, after all, seems somewhat more within the author’s control. I once wrote a book pretending I had sixty or so days to live. That little exercise in existential visualization took me to a place I’ve never been before. I was, among other things, surprised to find so much humor there. Flannery O’Connor says that every author has a bone to which they return again and again to gnaw and gnaw. The image assumes that we have found our bone or at least know where to look for it. To write from the soul is to gnaw at and be gnawed by the bone of your ultimate concern.You cruelly burden your poor characters with your question and then trail behind them as they struggle for some kind of answer. You’re the gold miner and your characters are your pick and shovel. Nor is the soul purely a place of darkness and dirt. If you’re writing from there you’re still sitting outside in the reception area. Nor does writing from the soul make this endeavor any less a simple task, a craft, the job and duty that must be meekly done. Still, you’re in the bowels digging or in the heights welding. A certain courage is required.

« Newer PostsOlder Posts »

Powered by WordPress