quote:

In front of the computer

Writing a book is one of the loneliest tasks in the world. Once every two years, I sit down in front of the computer, look towards the unknown sea of my soul and see that there are some islands there: Certain ideas that have developed and are ready to be explored. Then I get on my ship (Named Word) and decide to sail to the nearest one. On the way, I shall face currents, tempests, but continue rowing, exhausted, now conscious that the island to which I intended to arrive is no longer in my horizon.

At this moment several scenes cross my head, such as spending the rest of my life commenting on the successes of the past, or criticizing new writers because I do not find the courage to publish anymore. But was it not my dream to be a writer?
Then I must continue to write phrases, paragraphs, chapters, writing until death, without letting myself be paralyzed by neither success nor defeat nor the other snares. Otherwise, what is the sense of my life?

I decide: Better start right now. And the process of the first book repeats one more time. I wake up at nine in the morning with the intention of sitting down to write as soon as I finish breakfast. I read the newspapers. I go out to walk. I go to the bar to chat a little with people. I come back and remember that I have to phone a series of people.

I look at the computer out of the corner of my eye, but it’s already time to eat.

While I eat a sandwich, I don’t stop thinking about what I should be writing.

Dinner time nears and then, to unload my conscience, I wonder if I should write, at least for a half hour.

I start out of obligation but, suddenly, “the thing” takes over my will and I don’t manage to stop anymore. The help calls. I ask her not to interrupt me. One hour later, she calls again. I’m hungry, but before, just one more line. When I sit at the table, the dish is cold. I have dinner quickly and return. Now I cannot control my thoughts anymore. I am coming across with matters I had never dreamed of. I drink coffee, I drink more coffee and by two in the morning I stop because my eyes are tired.

I lie down, spend another hour taking notes I want to use in the next paragraph. I promise to myself that I’ll start writing at eleven in the morning the next day. And the next day, the exact same thing occurs again. Walk, conversation, food, guilt, anger, struggle with the first page, etcetera.

But that is how it works. There is no other way.

Column "Frente a la Computadora" written by Paulo Coelho, published in the “Viva” supplement of “Clarín” newspaper on Sunday, January 17 2010, copyright of said edition by Grupo Clarín. Intellectual property registry number 1759, MCS.