TEXT IN ENGLISH
If my memories don't deceive me, ever since I can remember and learned to scribble my first letters, I've been looking for a way to capture what I feel and think on paper.
At first, the process was chaotic and disorderly, then very gradually, fighting against a deep-rooted entropy, it became more and more methodical and systematic as time went by.
I am not exaggerating when I say that I filled notebooks with gibberish and trivial things, seeking to develop ideas and projects that never came to fruition. Although at the beginning, I admit that it was not in my mind the idea, -in some obsessive way- of becoming a writer.
There were many obstacles that I had to overcome, before I could even think and take seriously that possibility, barriers and fears both external and internal. There comes to my memory an event that marked me in a very special way and that I will never forget.
It was at the time of high school, when a teacher whose name I do not want to remember, who taught the subject of Spanish in second year, took a composition that I had made and exposed it in public before my classmates, as a sample of the worst spelling I had ever seen.
If I remember no more he said something like, "that if Cervantes had read something like that, he would be rolling over in his grave" and then to top it off he added, "if he had been born in Greece, our friend would have been thrown to the sacrificial stone" when asked why; with a sarcastic laugh he replied, "because they threw all the defective children there to get rid of them."
Of course it was traumatic, but believe it or not, for a bizarre being of my ilk, events like that, which was not the only one; served as a spur, a negative stimulus to write.
Even if it was to stab me with every sentence and paragraph that came out of my pencil or fountain pen. However, all that catharsis, that spontaneous, as well as disorderly venting; it was a useless effort, which built nothing for others, as much as for me.
Until one day I came across a selection of short stories by Julio Cortázar, I remember they were titled "Una Flor Amarilla. That moment was a rebirth, an awakening to literature.
From that moment on everything changed, I became a consistent reader, and although quite late, I began to deal with my grammatical difficulties. A matter that by itself, without exaggerating a comma, has taken me all my life.
To be a writer has been and still is my great life project, a longing and a doing that defines me, since I have destined a lot of time for its achievement. Although I confess that the goal is still far away, I do not feel like a writer and less publicly proclaim it.
In that sense, I see that title as something very big, that I am afraid to pronounce and I even feel that I do not deserve it for many reasons.
I define myself as a modern scribe, or an unpaid scribe, a codifier of follies, a wordsmith of writing; but never as a writer.
I end this post by paraphrasing Socrates' most famous phrase: I know that I am not a writer, and knowing that perhaps I am closer to being one, than those who think they are.
TEXTO EN ESPAÑOL
Si las remembranzas no me engañan, desde que tengo uso de razón y aprendí a garabatear mis primeras letras, he buscado la forma de plasmar lo que siento y pienso en el papel.
Al principio, el proceso fue caótico y desordenado, después muy gradualmente, luchando contra una entropía muy arraigada, se fue haciendo cada vez más metódico y sistemático con el transcurrir del tiempo.
No exagero al afirmar, que llené cuadernos con galimatías y cosas triviales, buscando desarrollar ideas y proyectos que nunca se cumplieron. Aunque al principio, admito que no estaba en mi mente la idea, -de alguna manera obsesiva- de convertirme en escritor.
Fueron muchos los escollos que tuve que vencer, antes de solo pensar y tomar en serio esa posibilidad, barreras y miedos tantos externos como internos. Viene a mi memoria un suceso que me marcó de forma muy especial y que nunca voy a olvidar.
Fue en la época del liceo, en el que un profesor de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, que dictaba la asignatura de castellano en segundo año, tomó una composición que yo había realizado y la expuso en público ante mis compañeros, como muestra de la peor ortografía que jamás hubiera visto.
Si más no recuerdo dijo algo como: “que si Cervantes hubiera leído algo así, se estaría revolcando en su tumba” y después para rematar añadió: “si hubiera nacido en Grecia, a nuestro amigo lo hubieran lanzado a la piedra del sacrificio” cuando le preguntaron ¿Por qué?; con una risa sarcástica respondió: "porque allí lanzaban a todos los niños defectuosos para deshacerse de ellos."
Claro que fue traumático, pero aunque no lo crean, para un ser bizarro de mi calaña, sucesos como ese, que no fue el único; sirvieron de acicate, de estímulo negativo para escribir.
Así fuera para darme puñaladas, con cada frase y párrafo que salía de mi lápiz o estilográfica. Sin embargo, toda esa catarsis, ese desahogo espontaneo, así como desordenado; era un esfuerzo inútil, que no construía nada tanto para otros, como para mí.
Hasta que un día me topé con una selección de cuentos de Julio Cortázar, recuerdo que se titulaban “Una Flor Amarilla”. Ese momento fue un renacimiento, un despertar a la literatura.
A partir de allí todo cambió, me volví un lector consecuente, y aunque bastante tarde, comencé a tomar cartas en mis dificultades gramaticales. Cuestión que por sí misma, sin exagerar ni una coma, me ha llevado toda la vida.
Ser escritor ha sido y es mi gran proyecto de vida, una añoranza y un hacer que me definen, ya que he destinado mucho tiempo para su consecución. Aunque confieso, que la meta todavía es lejana, no me siento escritor y menos lo proclamo públicamente.
En ese sentido, ese título lo veo como algo muy grande, que me da miedo pronunciar y hasta siento que no lo merezco por múltiples razones.
Me autodefino como un escribiente moderno, o un codificador de locuras, un palabrero de la escritura; pero nunca lo hago como escritor.
Finalizo este post parafraseando la frase más famosa de Sócrates: sé que no soy escritor, y sabiéndolo quizás estoy más cerca de serlo, que aquellos que creen que si lo son.
Translated with www.DeepL.com
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