Someone once said (I'm too old and brain addled to remember who) you can serve truth or you can serve money, but you can't serve both. He must have been a regular viewer of Question Time.
But it's a poser. What is a writer for? To tell the truth as he/she sees it, or to chase the money and write what people want?
Why not both? The trouble with the truth is it's more often than not unpalatable. And what is truth anyway? Isn't it just your personal view of things? What is truth, exactly?
Is art the expression of truth? I believe real art comes out of us unconsciously, in our unguarded moments when we aren't intending to give ourselves away. But it's hard to pin down, like pictures our minds create in the leaves on a tree or the clouds in the sky.
Maybe I should leave the last word on the subject to Bukowski.
2 comments:
The good thing about writing is that no-one gets the last word. Except the Last Writer, who would be writing for...
The trick with Buk's wonderful piece is not to let it deflate you, but to let it fire and inspire you.
Thanks Ian. I've seen that Bukowski poem a few times and each time it makes me think about what I'm writing for.
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