“He tried to write One Hundred Years early on. At the beginning he called it his mamotreto [bulky notebook]. It was not spoken of; he could not write it. He knew the novel needed a writer with more experience, so he waited until the day he became the writer capable of writing One Hundred Years. It has to do with command of technique. You need a great deal of technique to write a novel like that. He knows the tale; he has the characters and storyline; but he couldn’t write it. You have a novel that has to be typewritten, but you can’t type, so you have to wait until you learn to type it up; the novel is there, waiting.”
Because this is the only way to change.
To want. To ask.
To be an unlocked house
in a neighborhood of robbers.
Palms open, Arms extended. Voice unshaking.
Broadening yourself like a target to say
“Aim. Shoot. I am ready.
I invite hope in
I know failure may follow.”
- tumblr: the only place you get excited when a stranger follows you