Why We Write

There are just many, many hidden (ridden and read on) reasons why do writers do the write thing. Isn't that so? Click on Why We Write (with a comment of mine:) and read a piece of Danny Rubin, writer of “Groundhog Day” at whywewriteseries.wordpress.com to view how many successful writers may cope with when they are not allowed to write. (Well, even when they cannot, they write). I remember each and every phrase of a good conversation, and if I do not have a pen and paper, at least I count on my own memory to Words Wide Wrap. I remember having read in some newspaper that if the educational system continued as it was, as people were reading books less and less, the world would be full of idiots who cannot even write their names. I recently read (not in the same news, but still a paper) that there is a Sci-Fi book written by a famous author (that I never read/heard) where only ignorant people would inhabit the planet, for the real intelligent ones wouldn't have children. Thank God neither one of those predictions seem exactly right. At least, the majority of people in this planet can read or write. And with the upcoming of the internet, more and more people are writing and reading. But prior to that all, quality and intention must be at the upfront. If there are poor information, most clearly they will generate poor educated people. If families, as a support system, didn't exist at all, more and more children would be left in their own devices, which in turn would be a shame for humanity. So, what really matters here? Is it just to write, or to write well, or what we write to our children? The same goes with television, cinema, theatre and all the media which make accessible information (including, especially, the internet): Good choices lead to better results. And by having a clear vision to make those choices we must share information, we must write our ideals, our experiences, our lives. I'm not a Imdb name holder, or am I on any internet "move" database nor am I a journalist (I gave up that dream when a man to whom I entered my inscription to the University told me I would add in the already big list of liars in the media) to discuss and make opinions (as I do not have any 'pinions neither am I-care(^l^)ess a peanut to think I can win one). But I recently heard (now at a TV News station) two journalists complaining about "opinionating blogs made by amateurs with no comments added" to their sharing. And I got to the conclusion, with a Confucian confusion in my head saying that Yes/No, we should write to be read, but most importantly with guts to read and hear our own selves (and now is my Socratic stomach speaking). And yes, this is a narcissistic activity, but what is not? Even when we are helping someone else, as much as it seems so altruistic, we are actually helping and thinking of ourselves, for that action comes from solely, only and lonely our own hearts, making it beneficial to our own personal growth, and if we are lucky enough may benefit others in our way to our epiphanies. And that's why I write.

Hi-Calls (a Cross tic)

San Juan de la Cruz, Patron of all poets, died in the night of December, 13/14, in a mystical place in the South of Spain. I spent my vacation last year in Andalusia and Portugal, where San Juan used to travel to apply his charity healings/hearings. In a very humid day, I went to visit his humble church there in Ubeda. I felt his presence in each corner of the building, and especially on the small table where he lied on his last days. As homage to this great Saint, whose works were influenced by Oriental philosophical concepts, I made a Novena in a Haiku alliteration/alteration of nine stanzas with nine words, each one of them made for each precedent day before the Christmas Eve (which is, beginning from today, in nine days). I hope you enjoy it as well. Have A Happy Holiday!

San Juan de la Cruz
e-ternamente
Ilumina sua luz.

Hi-Calls (a Cross tic)

Estrada praieira
Gotas de chuva
O sabor a sal

Beach city
Electric rain assaults
Taste like pepper salt.

Polluted city
Utters state so critic
Raindrops acid citric.

Evolved world
Lack of words
For human's ambitions.

Sky in graffiti
Art for elite
Tainted rainbow seat.

The oak tree
Envelops a secret:
A leaf falls.

Wind blows
In the cold breeze
Numb heart freezes.

White snow falls
Attacking army.
Red stains the scene.

Saint on the fountain.
Embare Sea
A church sees.

Ana C.

Note: Saint Anthony of Embare Basilic is a Gothic Church that contemplates the sea, and it's located in front of a sculpture of Saint Anthony in the center of a fountain. And Embare means "waters that heal" in Brazilian Indian language, and it's a beach located on my birthplace city of Santos (Saints) in Brazil where I will spend Christmas this year.



How about you? Do you have a+cross+tic to share?

United Artists

There is a very nice blog here where they explain little by little (and with minimal and decimal of details) why the writers are on strike in America. There are many, many reasons, but the bottom line is:
"Don't let
them get
us out like pet
on the internet" (and I just in-vented that!;)

Now they posted a video where screenwriter Phil Alden Robinson of "Fields of Dreams" tells us how in each generation (let's say, twenty years) that technology advance takes place, and writers find themselves LOST (no pun intended) and like the Desperate Housewives (no pun here either) they too complain to get their bargain. (the Desperate Housewives' comments)

So I went there and commented about how grateful I am that they are on this fight now. I just didn't know I would get into another fight. (giggles) View the comments and see it yourself what I am talking about:
Comments on United Hollywood Blog

Now I feel obliged to apologize if ever the captain of that titanic ship (or any other writer) comes to read my comments there or my ramblings here on my humble spaceship:

"dear captain:
Being a writer I should have known you would take my comments literally (gasp) Mea Culpa (gasp) But since I sympathise with the whole deal, in solidarity with the "WAG" (gasp) and the WGA, and just to cool things down a little (no pun intended), here is a dollar coin to go buy you a beer
...but no strings attached. Cheers!"

A Flower in your Garden...

You Are A Lily

You are a nurturer and all around natural therapist. People see you as their rock. And they are able to depend on you. You are a soothing influence. You can make people feel better with a few words. Your caring has more of an impact than even you realize.

What Flower Are You?