Kirjoittamisesta: Jack Kerouac
"
– Jack, meidän pitää lähteä, emme saa pysähtyä ennen kuin
päästään sinne." "Minne me sitten ollaan menossa?"
"En tiedä mutta meidän on mentävä."
Parhaita
kirjoittamisohjeita ikinä: Jack Kerouacin Belief & Technique For
Modern Prose.
1.
Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own
joy
2.
Submissive to everything, open, listening
3.
Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4.
Be in love with yr life
5.
Something that you feel will find its own form
6.
Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7.
Blow as deep as you want to blow
8.
Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9.
The unspeakable visions of the individual
10.
No time for poetry but exactly what is
11.
Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12.
In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13.
Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14.
Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15.
Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16.
The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17.
Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18.
Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19.
Accept loss forever
20.
Believe in the holy contour of life
21.
Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22.
Dont think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23.
Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24.
No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language &
knowledge
25.
Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26.
Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27.
In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28.
Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier
the better
29.
You're a Genius all the time
30.
Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven
(Lisää tietoa aiheesta täältä.)
Sivumennen
sanoen, yksi kaikkien aikojen parhaista romaanin lopetuksista löytyy
legendaarisesta On The Road (Matkalla) -romaanista:
So in America when the sun goes
down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long,
long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in
one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road
going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I
know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let
the children cry, and tonight the stars'll be out, and don't you know
that God is Pooh Bear? the evening star must be drooping and shedding
her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of
complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the
peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what's
going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I
think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father
we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty.

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