Cine ţi-e alături când scrii?
Un articol simpatic, pornit de la o întrebare simplă: le folosește scriitorilor să trăiască alături de un alt practicant? L-am găsit după ce ieri mi-am adus aminte de un articol zdrobitor din The New Yorker, publicat ulterior ca o cărticică – e vorba de un eseu scris de Calvin Trillin la moartea soției lui, Alice. Printre altele, textul conținea următorul paragraf:
I showed Alice everything I wrote in rough draft–partly because I valued her opinion but partly because I hoped to impress her. If the piece was meant to be funny, the sound of laughter from the next room was a great reward. When I wrote in the dedication of a book “For Alice,” I meant it literally. In that sense, the headline on her obituary in the Times was literally true, as well as in the correct order: it described her as “Educator, Author and Muse.” When Alice died, I was going over the galleys of a novel about parking in New York–a subject so silly that I think I would have hesitated to submit the book to a publisher if she hadn’t, somewhat to her surprise, liked it. When the novel was published, the dedication said, “I wrote this for Alice. Actually, I wrote everything for Alice.”
Pe subiectul sex și relații cu alți scribi – jurnaliști de data asta – am mai scris aici.
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Happy Valentine’s day to you too :D