[ 3 min read ]
Diary of an artist, Thursday, March 14, 2019
Woke up 3:55 am
Not everybody will be willing to risk leaving everything behind, have the courage to pursue a dream or simply do things differently. What if that’s success?
What if not living the way most people live (because they mindlessly mimic others), and not yielding to most societal pressures is already a success?
Back to success at writing.
If I wrote a piece or an answer which spiked remarkably — gained a lot of attention, many people liked, upvoted and shared it (it fucking went viral!), many people, because of that piece or answer, said nice things about me and my writing, or someone even reached out to me and asked if they can publish / post the piece elsewhere (in some online publication), can I call myself a successful person (writer, artist)? Or maybe not yet?
I don’t yet make a living, let alone good money off my writing. As a matter of fact I’m struggling financially. Can I call myself a successful person (writer, artist)? Am I a real writer, (or a real artist), can I call myself a real writer, (or a real artist)?
Some are of the opinion that in today’s world real artists (real writers) don’t struggle (“starve”). Show me someone who is actually starving — I mean from the world of writers or artists, not in a war zone or some unfortunate place like North Korea for example. I guess most of us, because of that cliché about “starving artists”, learned to mistake “starving” for “struggling”, or should it be “struggling” for “starving”, or can it be both ways?
I don’t yet exist in the collective consciousness of the world population as a thinker (philosopher), let alone a prominent one. Unlike Friedrich Nietzsche for example. The first book by him (the first one by him I grabbed, not the first he ever wrote) I couldn’t read beyond 40%. “Life’s too short. I’d better spend my time on George Orwell for example. He knew how to write so that people can read it.”, I said to myself.
Am I a real thinker? Can I call myself a (real) thinker (or philosopher)? If not, what am I, a fake thinker (philosopher), a wannabe-thinker (philosopher)? Who gets to decide this? From what point onward will I be able (allowed) to call myself this or that?
Or maybe it’s enough that I write and have thoughts? Do I need to share what I write and think to be called a writer or a thinker? I wouldn’t say so (but I do it, i.e. share). To me it’s enough if writing and thinking is what I do each day (or almost each day). Am I wrong about it? Says who?
Reading (since my last diary entry):
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion (20 min, on scribd app).
Fire in the Belly: The Life and Times of David Wojnarowicz (20 min, on scribd app).
Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche (20 min, on scribd app). Apparently I am not able to read anything by this guy. I’m done with him. For good. I need to read something by George Orwell as next, immediately (!), in order to wipe out from my memory the awful experience I had when I was reading Nietzsche’s books (or rather tried to).
Audiobooks (since my last diary entry):
Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari (20 min, on scribd app). Second reading.
YouTube videos and movies (since my last diary entry):
Mann V. Ford (on HBO Go) Finished it.
Music for this writing session: Coffee Table Jazz (playlist on spotify)