When I was three, shortly after my first memory, I made the folly of taking the job as a writer. I do not know exactly what was my initial motivation was and how the brand new wedding ceremony between me and the literature. However, despite my short life, was convinced that the pen and paper would be my faithful companions for the rest of my life.
But not everything was so simple at first. I had two very critical problems that would hinder my start in the field of writing:
But not everything was so simple at first. I had two very critical problems that would hinder my start in the field of writing:
- My reputation in the pre-release me from my new office. Jesus, my friend who dreamed of becoming a famous doctor - builder, never forgive me, that girl who wanted to be Miss Venezuela to know I'd stop talking and my teacher, very good Maria Gabriela, I would like one of those "special alumnitos" condemned to visit the shrink for ever and ever.
- The transcript does not give me very well. What was frustrating to spend hours straining to emerge only a very elaborate ma, me, me, mo, mu !
the seventh day I swallowed my pride and realized I needed professional help to meet the profile required to be efficient in my work. Who will go? Then I decided to look at Suzie, my sister: a woman experienced 9 years with the best criteria.
I approached with care and respect-trial, I put my case and was delighted the post of private consulting my editorial matters. In addition, also volunteered as a private teacher of literacy and self-proclaimed official transcriber of my ideas. Voilà! No more problems!
And so, after going through moments of anguish, despair, frustration and suffering, as I became a gentleman writer long before learning to write.
That afternoon, my sister and I sat down to discuss what would be my first book Tales Luis Enrique . We both agreed with that title so egocentric and megalomaniac who did not give one iota of credit to the selfless labor of Suzie. True heroin anonymous!
The first story was about the fraternal relationship that existed between a hen and a kangaroo, sort of. I do not remember very well the argument, but perfectly cool drawing that to my editor came up to the end of the story were dozens of animals, stars, clouds, trees and related grieving the death of the unfortunate chicken. That killing characters always given me very well ...
The second story is titled The Little Engineer , story telling the story of a hungry infant and helpless awaiting the arrival of Christmas, an event she shared with the merciful Christ Child. Years later, I realized I had made an innocent plagiarism against the teacher horizonte and Panchito Mandefuá and that this "Little Engineer" did not fit at all with the argument. Things typical of the lack of experience! Sorry ...
The third story is called trucks and cars be friends again. I still do not understand why it was never explained what that terrible conflict that ended the friendship between trucks and cars and, worse yet - how was the subsequent reconciliation that the title promises. My creativity did his stuff and I ended up writing a tangled plot of a super highway that had no end I was able to take you to another dimension when we reach the end of the road. Incomprehensible!
After my first experience as a so-called writer, proceeded more promising issue for the next month. While Susie was quite satisfied with my first project, I said that to increase the loyalty of the readers had to improve the quality, depth and consistency of my future stories. Similarly, it was essential to learn to read and write as quickly as possible. It was inconceivable that a guy like me was a sad and vile illiterate!
The following weekend, my mentor called me at midnight on the dot to start leveling my evening classes. Pulled out a flip chart, markers of various colors and armed with education and millions of kilos of patience. Fortunately, in less than a month and was able to write and read complete sentences. Time to take the next step!
The next level, the more advanced of course, was to dramatically increase my general knowledge. How? Very simple! My sister felt that religion should be a mainstay in my training and chose - to start - nothing more and nothing less than the Apocalypse of St. John as basic text of study. Without words! It took more than 10 years for my head out the verse that I ordered dark nights of insomnia and nightmares: "The first angel sounded: And hail and fire mixed with blood, which were launched on the earth. "
was impossible to sleep after my theology classes, I imagined the wonderful world order announced by the implacable Seven angels with wings stunning, dressed in white with gold trumpets singing Gregorian chants those who served as the soundtrack of Horror films that went on television. Fear!
However, this biblical panic I was generating a feeling of curiosity gigantic issue that was enhanced with regular visits of two beautiful young Jehovah's Witnesses who sought to save my family from the flames of hell: Mandy and Carola. As is supposed to be easier to start the indoctrination by the smallest of the clan - namely me - the nice girl gave me a Bible story audiovisual material that ended up completely memorized. Sheath was addictive! On Sunday morning, while my sisters were asleep, my mom made breakfast and my dad was preparing his classes and spent hours and hours listening to the whores Bible stories.
But I became a religious psychopath, on the contrary, thanks to my ridiculous obsession with my gift I know an apocalypse a bit more hopeful that I learned along with my sister and as a result went to sleep in peace. No more prophetic nightmares!
The Jehovah's Witnesses disappeared from the face of the planet when my grandmother Sophia the bounced strongly from my house because we - as - we were practicing Roman Catholics. What will become of their lives?
While I was growing up my empathy with my father began to strengthen. He filled his mouth saying I was his traveling companion and never lost an opportunity to teach me everything he knew. My dad never saw me as an impudent boy and unprepared, chatted with me as if I were a grown-up, his equal.
a Saturday my dad asked me to accompany him to the mall to buy the four or five newspapers that we read religiously, we were always outstanding collection of books offered from time to time. No matter the subject of study of texts, I was constantly repeated that the culture would make us more complete and competitive men.
remember a collection that was announced on television that formed by the biographies of the great geniuses of mankind: Albert Einstein , Mozart, Edison , Gutenberg ... In no time ran out to buy the first issue. Had to be in my library because! There was always money for books but sometimes I refused buying Nintendo games. Without discussion, the main hobby of my father was - and remains - collect libraries. In my house there are no walls but libraries!
While science, history and geography permeating my preferences, my mom did not stop to instill a love of literature. My mother has in her report a file full of stories and poems for all possible occasions and as an added value, declaims with a high level of sensitivity. What a capacity to recite!
The woman who brought me into the world comes from a family of artists who by a twist of fate never exploited to their full potential. Painters, musicians, poets, storytellers, actors and novelists who ended up being lawyers, journalists, economists, psychologists and engineers. How sad!
already when I was 10, seven years after Tales Luis Enrique , there was an event that marked my life forever. One night, excuse the inaccuracy, I returned home after playing in the park of urbanization and got my sister writing poems on the wall of his room. That image of view covering his expressive needs filling a wall that did not belong at all, irreverent, firm and without hesitation or a second, finally convinced me that one day had to be as good as her, write no matter what people to think, read what I like to think my way regardless of the comments of others, not to be invaded by alien philosophies but rather create my own philosophy.
I started writing in silence, at night, behind the school notebooks. I spent to listen to adults, the elderly, it is amazing what you learn by listening to older people. Discover the secret books of my sister, things as deep as Zarathustra , The Flowers of Evil, Kundera ... I built me \u200b\u200ba boundless universe into words, where everything is possible, where everything moves at the speed of thought, where there is no time and space can be altered by wishful thinking alone.
The problem with this inner world that I became an introvert, reserved, including selective and discriminatory. However, with maturity learned to channel my universe, and even share it. At age 17 I caught all my reading and the creativity that had developed served me to talk about almost anything. Yes, I learned to speak after the old, which is not meant to stop writing: he wrote for me, for my brides, for brides of my friends, for the couple of my friends, to my teachers, for my family. After 15 years of experience as a poet officially I decided to go professional!
I die of laughter when it comes to my mind a not so old letter I wrote to a girl, now a major celebrity, cheerleader, which was used as a method relentless conquest by more than 20 people. Incredible! Everything that is done for love is beyond good and evil?
Nearly 20 years after Tales Luis Enrique , studied Literature at the Universidad Central de Venezuela . Perhaps, so forgive my ancestors for not having heeded the call of his artistic genes. In this school, surrounded by faculty scholars who finished me crazy, co-cultured, poets, dreamers, linguists and schizophrenic, I could not help but remember the angels and trumpets, the collector of collections, my mother reciting the poems of my grandfather and my sister's walls lined with marker.
My friend Jesus, who dreamed of becoming a doctor - builder, is a brand new business manager and I see almost every day, my friend who wanted to be Miss Venezuela I lost track, the last I saw of it is that is Germany studying the language of fools, and my teacher, very good Maria Gabriela, I got me a few times near my house, he greets me by my name and I smiled sheepishly as when she was three. debt I have yet to reveal the secret of my first and only trade: the writer's craft.
Happy day to all my fellow writer!
