Write, You Glorious Idiot
I recently made a post about documentaries that may be able to help you find inspiration when you feel like you’ve run out. I find that most of the time that works. However, for the other times you still can’t get the pen to start spitting out fire, here is a collection of quotes from writers that remind me of the reasons why I love to write. Most are short, but the big one at the bottom is a great Bukowski poem. So get back to writing, you glorious idiot.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Right or wrong, it’s very pleasant to break something from time to time.

David Ogilvy

The best ideas come as jokes. Make your thinking as funny as possible.

Franz Kafka

What we need are books that hit us like a most painful misfortune, like the death of someone we loved more than we love ourselves, that make us feel as though we had been banished to the woods, far from any human presence, like a suicide. A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us.

Beyond a certain point there is no return. This point has to be reached.

Leo Tolstoy

Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.

Andre Gide

The most beautiful things are those that madness prompts and reason writes.

Charles Bukowski – how to be a good writer

you’ve got to fuck a great many women
beautiful women
and write a few decent love poems.
and don’t worry about age
and/or freshly-arrived talents.

just drink more beer
more and more beer

and attend the racetrack at least once a

week

and win
if possible

learning to win is hard –
any slob can be a good loser.

and don’t forget your Brahms
and your Bach and your
beer.

don’t overexercise.

sleep until moon.

avoid paying credit cards
or paying for anything on
time.

remember that there isn’t a piece of ass
in this world over $50
(in 1977).

and if you have the ability to love
love yourself first
but always be aware of the possibility of
total defeat
whether the reason for that defeat
seems right or wrong –

an early taste of death is not necessarily
a bad thing.

stay out of churches and bars and museums,
and like the spider be
patient –
time is everybody’s cross,
plus
exile
defeat
treachery

all that dross.

stay with the beer.

beer is continuous blood.

a continuous lover.

get a large typewriter
and as the footsteps go up and down
outside your window

hit that thing
hit it hard

make it a heavyweight fight

make it the bull when he first charges in

and remember the old dogs
who fought so well:
Hemingway, Celine, Dostoevsky, Hamsun.

If you think they didn’t go crazy
in tiny rooms
just like you’re doing now

without women
without food
without hope

then you’re not ready.

drink more beer.
there’s time.
and if there’s not
that’s all right
too.