And I’m so glad to find someone who writes like I write. You see, for the longest time I felt like a misfit. I never just sat down and wrote one thing. I would start and stop novels (some of them almost finished) over and over again for months, until one stuck and I finished it. Then I would start the process all over again. Start, stop, start, stop. Then AHHH one to finish.
And I always thought this made me a freak. That I was somehow broken as a writer because of it. But then here I am, reading an interview with César Aira in Tin House, and he’s talking about how he does exactly the same thing. And it’s nice to read also that he finds the movement of the text important, the way it should feel like its always rushing towards something, like the text is running, the words are running, there is a powerful narrative urgency. And I like to write the same way.
It’s nice when I read stuff like that. Then I don’t feel like somehow, yet, somehow, I’m doing it in a broken, rusted, falling apart way. And that yes, one of my favorite writers is just as borked as I am.