Sunday, September 4, 2016

Olof Åkerlund: Do all these people writing books? – Helsingborgs Dagblad

This sentence is the most important, you have to get caught right away. Otherwise the risk is that you give up already here. But if you’ve made it here, I want to share with you an ill-concealed secret: It is difficult to write. To attract and retain your interest, while your phone signaling unread emails or any aunt like a video with a sweet Slow Loris you shared – it is a challenge.

And yet we write. Perhaps more than ever.

It is often referred to a study which claims that every third Swedish want to publish a book and it will always books with tips on how to write like a Nobel Prize winner, or at least a decent mystery writers. Magazines and coaches gives ten tips, you just need to get on with your novel. A successful financial puppy does not seem to have reached the roof of the doghouse before the hen has shared his staggering business in a fairly dull, spökskriven biography.

One should be careful in the choice of words. Every third person want to get , a book published. Not necessarily write it. There is a difference between being hungry and cook a five-course dinner.

Working on a culture editorial because you think about books, according to a colleague’s formulation to work on the slaughterhouse to be like animals.

Still, I love books. Not only the literature, but also the physical objects. But even a romantic can sense a wave of futility, when bokfloden Wells strongest. At this time of the year there about forty books a day to editors. And the numbers seem to be increasing a little each year. It’s basically pleasing, but it is reasonable to ask: Do all these people writing books?

For every aspiring writer, I would therefore recommend two essential addition to the release, which makes one ask the hard questions about her writing.

Leo Hallerstam have on publisher Wolf & amp; Theory made a rather free and successful translation of Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Letters to a Young Poet”. There is a raging nice book about life and literature, with (even for our days) radical ideas about sex and gender. The book consists of ten letters from the last century, as Rilke wrote to Franz Kappus – an officer student with a poet’s dreams.

And to the publisher Trombones small publications Sulfur containing the titles of only 16 pages, Jonas Ellerström translated “By flames, “a selection of lovely poetikaforismer of the now 97-year-old American beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Poetics deals with what poetry is all about, but also what it could or should be.

The two books should be read in its entirety, but I have recently carried them within me like a demanding dialogue .

Ferlinghetti: reinvent the idea of ​​beauty.

Rilke: Admit to yourself yourself whether you had to die if you were forbidden to write.

Ferlinghetti: Speak the unspeakable, makes the invisible visible.

Rilke: If your daily life seems poor, do not blame everyday life; blame yourself, admit that you are not poet enough to discover its riches.

Ferlinghetti: Pronounce new truths that the world can not deny.

Rilke: Ten years is nothing. To be an artist means never to count and calculate, but to mature as a tree.

Be honest: Matures you really like the tree?

If you do not have time to read so you do not have time (or tools) to write, wrote Stephen King. I hope you have had time to read this far, because I want unabashedly join with the crowd of literary advisor and assert the following: second after the first is the most important sentence in a text last. A really strong final sentence lights back on throughout the gray body of the text above it and get it to shine. It may come as a bolt from the blue or neatly tie together. It can serve as a dramatic exclamation point or a colon that opens onto the infinite.

And if you do not consider themselves to reach those heights on his own, you can always leave it to a master to send the reader with some comforting words.

Marguerite Duras:


I can not.

No one can.

It must be said: we can not.

And yet we write.

This quote from Marguerite Duras is taken from the “writing”, translation Kennet Klemets (Ellerströms, 2014).


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