Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the cache-master domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/merriama/public_html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6131
Página 33 – Sitio sobre chorradas acerca de cómo escribir ficción

Blog

  • What we do in bed

    Asexual humor. I don’t expect sexual people to understand.

  • Un trino, un destello

    brown and grey hummingbird hovering over orange fruit
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
    De nuevo se agita la rama,
    Sus hojas danzan a la luz del sol.
    Y su voz es un recuerdo.
    De algo que nunca pasó.

    Un torpedo contra el cielo.
    Cola de abanico el freno,
    La mosca en pico.
    [Supongo, porque muy miope soy]

    ¿Y después?
    Un cielo azul y nubes,
    Se acabó.
  • El escritor no vive en tierra fantasía

    magic wand on the grass
    Photo by Alexander Mass on Pexels.com

    Porque también es bueno salir al mundo real. La gente nos acusa de vivir en mundos de fantasía. No lo comprenden. No es que perdamos la pista al mundo real. No es que tengamos una especie de esquizofrenia que nos impida distinguir entre las alucinaciones y la realidad. Lo nuestro no es eso. La gente no deja de decirlo, y me molesta porque no es cierto. Estoy construyendo algo, creando algo. Es una tarea muy absorbente, y también muy gratificante. Pero no por ello olvido el mundo en el que vivo, aunque, si alguien me interrumpe, ponga cara de enfadado porque en realidad me molesta un poco que me saquen de la conexión genial que estaba haciendo entre dos partes distintas de mi historia.

    Brandon Sanderson. Curso de escritura creativa. Sinequanon.

  • Sometimes on Sunday

    pouring milk from pitcher to coffee cup
    Photo by Mizuno K on Pexels.com

    Edna O’Brien, the talented Irish novelist, said in an interview, “Writers are always working. They never stop.” This is the nature of the job of writing, at least of writing fiction. Writers are either developing an idea or they are questing, even if unconsciously, for the germ of an idea. I create things out of boredom with reality and with the sameness of routine and objects around me. Therefore, I don’t dislike this boredom which encroaches on me every now and then, and I even try to create it by routine. I do not “have to work” in the sense that I must drive myself to it or make myself think what to do, because the work will come to me. I get the same pleasure from making a table, a good drawing, occasionally a painting, as I do from writing a book or a short story.
    .

    Patricia Highsmith. Plotting and writing suspense
  • Nadine

    rain drops
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


    I listened to it,
    The night a liquid pour filling the barrel.
    Dawn,
    a gray light I didn't want to wake up to.
    The smartphone,
    a surface for humidity and the alarm the doom.
    Cold outside the duvet,
    Black cat whiskers against my cheek.
    However, Monday.
    Groceries was the order.
    Job?
    I work Sundays, holidays and you tell me when I'm not.
    Even resting I do so.
    For a writer even when not writing,
    All the time is thought.

    [Nadine, en interacción con el sistema frontal número 4, mantendrá el temporal de lluvias torrenciales en la península de Yucatán y el sureste de México.

    Comisión Nacional del Agua | 19 de octubre de 2024 | Comunicado]

  • Infinito

    a brown leaf on tree branches
    Photo by Ugur Tandogan on Pexels.com

    Y muchos queridos lectores se convertirán, a su vez, en escritores. Así empezamos todos los que escribimos: leyendo. Oíamos la voz de un libro que nos hablaba.

    El cuento de la criada, introducción. Margaret Atwood.

    Qué conste que a mí ningún libro en particular me habló. Supongo que me gustaba la idea de cultivar el arte de no hacer «nada»..

  • A web of words

    closeup photography of dew drops on spider web
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    Words are the prelude, the story is nothing else than the marvelous use of words as tools performed in scene after many practice hours. Thats what a quote of myself would say. However, Im not quotable.

    Thus, its time to share a Reith lecture. One from 1996. That old!

    Yes, that old. In the original entry, the one I translated 1, I mention the RAE discussion on the j and the x and you might get confused what does the RAE has to do with a web of words. You might even ignore what the RAE is!

    THE RAE

    RAE stands for Royal Academy of (E for the Spanish) Language. Theres no such institution in English. English thrives by adding words from the colonial territories (either conquered by the British empire or by the Coca cola one). All you have is the Oxford dictionary as the dictator of GOOD ENGLISH USAGE.

    Well, we, in the Spanish speaking world, we have the RAE. And people (the common people) can get really angry about the RAE discussing if the ancient usage of the x and the j is proper.

    To be true, the RAE is quite reasonable (except when admitting women into their ranks) and it has admitted popular usages of the words instead of fostering the idea of the language being unchangeable2.

    You will see why I say this by listening to the lecture. All I’m doing today is posting the link. The questions posed there are equally valid in Spanish as they’re made in English. Its worth thinking about it when writing fiction.

    Anyways, this is a blog where nonsense is allowed.

    This is a podcast broadcasted by the BBC Reith lectures in 1996 as a series of lectures by Jean Aitchinson.

    A web of words

    1. With a lot of trouble and in floppy time due to the fact Im a terrible listener; I need the transcriptions. Otherwise I keep listening Tim Ferrough where Dean Farrar should be. ↩︎
    2. Its my opnion that the flexibility of the Academy makes it possible to understand Cervantes 500 years later. Unlike Shakespeare, whom I cant read in English at all.
      ↩︎

  • La reina de los no muertos

    spiral staircase in between bookshelves
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
    A casa llega y entre libros se queda.
    Los pies sobre la tarima,
    Té a la mesa y migas en las rodillas.

    De ella sale y entre historias trajina.
    Las palabras describen cada piedra y pececillo,
    un lirio o un yelmo.
    Un cauce definitivo.

    Extiende la mano,
    Flotando se posan en ella.
    Por color o tamaño,
    En blanco, inacabable.
    De tinta, infinito.
    Ligeras estrellas como cometas.

    Y entonces de vuelta,
    Mirando infinito,
    Un océano oscuro y maldito.