I’d always believed that writing, as well as visual art, is a natural talent, and have gone so far as to question whether the study of either is helpful or indeed a hindrance to an inborn creative ability. I remember an exchange student from Italy back in high school. I watched him as in just a couple sittings he completed a watercolor version of The Last Supper. I don’t believe I picked up a pencil for quite a while after that. But as I have learned, and earlier stated, it is a combination of this natural talent, the honing of the skills through learning technique, and the exposure to the medium that produces fine art. I’ve spent most of this day writing and reading (and all right, I did the laundry as well), and will write an analysis tomorrow on one of the stories that touched me. I’m just in too silly a mood to do so now.
Flash Fiction Fridays
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- A Death in The Family
- At Swim Two Birds
- Barthes
- BASS
- Black Swan Green
- Blindness
- BLOGGING
- Borges
- Calvino
- Clockwork Orange
- Confrontation
- Consolation of Philosophy
- Cormac McCarthy
- DeLillo
- EDUCATION
- Faulkner
- Flatland
- Geronimo Sandoval
- Glimmer Train
- Henderson The Rain King
- if on a winter's night a traveler
- Ishiguro
- Jamestown
- Kundera
- Life of Pi
- LITERATURE
- Margaret Atwood
- Marquez
- Master and Margarita
- Munro
- Murakami
- Peter Taylor
- Plato
- Ploughshares
- POETRY
- provinces of night
- REALITY
- St. Augustine
- Steinbeck
- Suttree
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being
- Tropic of Cancer
- Updike
- William Gay
- WRITING
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"I will breakfast from the cupboard where uneaten dreams are kept"
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"I foresee the successful future of a very mediocre society."
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