It is not easy to write. I say this because literature has always been present in my life. From childhood until adolescence, from which I have just left. More precisely, books. There is nothing more compelling to me than reading a book that makes me travel elsewhere. Meet new characters, cultures, cities, traditions. It's a bit of the world on a piece of paper. Adventure, romance, fiction. Each genre has its specialty, making it unique.
When I read, I try to focus more on the story itself than on writing. Of course, mistakes of Portuguese get in the way, a lot. Generally, they are small and almost imperceptible. Many writers do not write well. And that does not make them less writers for it. They are more often seen as storytellers, since the focus is on the message conveyed and the plot itself, and not just on the words that make up the whole.
Since I graduated from the College of Communication and Art in Sao Paulo, I started writing a book. It's a story about a fourteen-year-old teenager who murders his whole family for Christmas dinner. After this, he is sent to a psychiatric hospital called "Saint Louis” and receives a blue bracelet. He later discovers that other patients also have wristbands, but different colors. Each color represented a feeling and that feeling was what led him to commit such a crime. But I think I'm talking too much. Although it sounds a bit morbid, the story reflects the human view of what thinking and doing is. What causes a good person to do bad things, and the consequences that this entails not only for the victims, but for the very cause of it.
I've always loved movies and books that made me think about life. It is something that instigates you to want to know more and understand how the world and people work. It is not something empty that fills you for a few hours and leaves leaving a big hole in the brain. The human being is so complex. Feelings, expressions, actions, thoughts ... so many things within some bones, tissue and blood. A tangle of connections that make up the most valuable thing in the world: human life.
Right now, I'm on the subway on the way to my first day at work. Although I work on my book night and day, ready to enroll him in the New York Small Writers' Contest that will choose a book to be published by Checkmate, America's Largest Publisher, I also need to pay my bills. I was only able to finish college thanks to the "little writer" project of my old school. She chose five highly talented students and funded them for two years. I ended up being the fourth chosen, needing to do an analysis about the current economy of the country, a dissertation about how Brazilian literature could help the neediest population and write a commercial script about the fight against drugs. It was not an easy task. Especially for all the knowledge I had about scripts until it came out of internet pages and moldy old library books. Even though it was hard work, it was worth it. In college, I learned a lot about what cinema and art wanted to teach people.
When you shape yourself into something that does you good, you probably believe you will work on the same thing. But this is not what happened to me. One of my teachers pointed me to a traineeship as a projection assistant at one of the city's cinemas, but since my degree was not ready in time, I ended up losing my job. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the recruiter ended up liking me and managed to fit me into a slightly more modest vacancy. "Usher," to be precise. No, it's not the singer. I also got confused the first time. Usher was the area-focused employee. For those who do not know, there are three areas in the cinema: box office; where the tickets are sold and delivered movie gifts in the releases. Snack bar; the cinema snack bar. There is the famous "movie popcorn", with that melted butter that nobody can repeat at home, soft drinks, juices, sweets, hot dogs and a heap of pesticides. And finally, the area of operations, where are the movie theaters, the podium, name given to where the tickets are collected, the bathrooms and the 3D glasses room. My job was to keep everything clean and organized. In other words, he would be a janitor. There is no shame in that, but instead of having the adaptation of my book being shown in the movie theaters, I would clean up the filth of anyone watching movies.
Even being loud and often cramped, reading in the subway has become a commonplace thing for me. Especially when I needed to study script pages for college exams. I am currently reading "The Prodigal Alchemist and the Copper Sword," by a Brazilian writer. I liked to read national books because it helped me to improve writing. Studying scripts in college had more to do with the techniques while the book showed the sweetness of words and the ways they could be used.
By living in a housing estate far from the city center, it was necessary to take a bus and a subway. Going to the end of the line in both. I was going to get into the service at fourteen o'clock and leave at eleven o'clock. So, I got up early to get everything ready for the long day. After twenty-three stations and thirty pages of reading, behold, I arrive at the subway station Tucuruvi. Because it was the last station on the blue line, everyone would try to land at the same time, which always gave me jerks and elbows. So, as usual, I always expected an interval of ten seconds for everyone to come down, and only then would I risk trying to get out alive.
Hundreds of people passed from one end to the other in seconds. I would not risk being between them. Before I could venture into this sea of hurried human beings with their daily lives, I kept my book in the deepest part of my purse. Precious goods first always. And before a herd of humans formed again to embark on the subway I was about to leave, I made my way to the first ladder that had appeared on the way. It led to the main street exit. The station, which would probably become a routine in my life from now on, had a greater immensity inside than on the outside. After crossing the ratchet, with hundreds of other people, I come across my fate on the other side of the street.Oct. 16, 2019, 5:08 a.m. 0 Report Embed 0
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