P. G. Wodehouse (1881–1975)
Once, when he was beginning a Wooster-Jeeves novel, he experimented with using a Dictaphone. After he had dictated the equivalent of a page, he played it back to check it over. What he heard sounded so terribly unfunny that he immediately turned off the machine and went back to his pad and pencil.
After this, according to the biographer Robert McCrum, “he might snooze a bit in his armchair, have a bath, and do some more work, before the evening cocktail (sherry for her, a lethal martini for him) at six, which they took in the sun parlour, overlooking the garden.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.”
― P.G. Wodehouse
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the wounded soldier is no longer just a man begging for mercy - he is infected with something dangerous, which makes him aggressive and possibly uncontrollable. His outstretched hand may now mean not a plea, but an attempt to grab the protagonist, which increases the sense of threat.
The soldier's eyes, wide open and seemingly filled with fear or madness, now look like a sign of loss of humanity. The blood stains on his clothes are no longer just traces of battle, but perhaps the result of his own aggression.
The chains in the background can be interpreted as a symbol of restriction or control over the infected - perhaps he was captured or locked up, but was able to break free.
William Styron (1925–2006)
“Let’s face it, writing is hell,” Styron told The Paris Review in 1954.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“We’re all in this game together.”
― William Styron
#dailyrituals #inktober #WilliamStyron @masoncurrey
