ApoK wrote: Teoria do Caos para o conto ficar um mimo
Samwise wrote: P.S. Já que coloquei o cinema à mistura... Já viram um filme chamado "Fallen", com o Denzel Washington e com o John Goodman?
If "read a lot, write a lot" is the Great Commandment - and I assure you that it is - how much writing constitutes a lot? That varies, of course, from writer to writer. One of my favorite stories on the subject - probably more myth than truth - concerns James Joyce. According to the story, a friend came to visit him one day and found the great man sprawled across his writing desk in a posture of utter despair.
"James, what's wrong?" the friend asked. "Is it the work?"
Joyce indicated assent without even raising his head to look at the friend. Of course it was the work; isn't it always?
"How many words did you get today?" the friend pursued.
Joyce (still in despair, still sprawled facedown on his desk): "Seven."
"Seven? But James . . . that's good, at least for you!"
"Yes," Joyce said, finally looking up. "I suppose it is . . . but I don't know what order they go in!"
At the other end of the spectrum, there are writers like Anthony Trollope. He wrote humongous novels (Can You For-give Her? is a fair enough example; for modern audiences it might be retitled Can You Possibly Finish It?), and he pumped them out with amazing regularity. His day job was as a clerk in the British Postal Department (the red public mailboxes all over Britain were Anthony Trollope's invention); he wrote for two and a half hours each morning before leaving for work. This schedule was ironclad. If he was in mid-sentence when the two and a half hours expired, he left that sentence unfinished until the next morning. And if he happened to finish one of his six-hundred-page heavyweights with fifteen minutes of the session remaining, he wrote The End, set the manuscript aside, and began work on the next book.
John Creasey, a British mystery novelist, wrote five hundred (yes, you read it correctly) novels under ten different names. I've written thirty-five or so - some of Trollopian length - and am considered prolific, but I look positively blocked next to Creasey. Several other contemporary novelists (they include Ruth Rendell/Barbara Vine, Evan Hunter/Ed McBain, Dean Koontz, and Joyce Carol Oates) have written easily as much as I have; some have written a good deal more.
On the other hand - the James Joyce hand - there is Harper Lee, who wrote only one book (the brilliant To Kill a Mockingbird). Any number of others, including James Agee, Malcolm Lowry, and Thomas Harris (so far), wrote under five. Which is okay, but I always wonder two things about these folks: how long did it take them to write the books they did write, and what did they do the rest of their time? Knit afghans? Organize church bazaars? Deify plums? I'm probably being snotty here, but I am also, believe me, honestly curious. If God gives you something you can do, why in God's name wouldn't you do it?
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