The heart, the mind, and the guts

Among the many possible variations, there are three types of writers that capture my attention: those who claim they write with their guts, those who prioritize their heart, and the last who choose their mind. Let’s say it right away, one does not easily command human organs. In short: the novelist must use their mind, heart, and guts. Separately or all together, depending on the project. My mother doesn’t throw anything away. One day, she caught me writing an article for Le Petit Samedi Soir, and seeing me strike out a sentence, she said with her sweet smile: “Your sentence is pretty, save it for another article.” Instead of replying that this is not how it’s done, I set the sentence aside. So when a writer comes from this part of the world, they are already marked by the scars of life. And that is what allows them to stand tall in the face of difficult setbacks. One thinks to themselves that they have already lived worse, like an earthquake in the case of Thélyson Orélien.