A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection - unless you lie - in which case of course you have constructed your own protection and, it could be argued, become a politician.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Thanks to Common Dreams for posting Harold Pinter's Nobel Lecture. It is a truly remarkable speech. Here's a quote:
Posted by Bruce Prescott at 8:24 AM