crônica: form and content(ment)
creative discipline for the new year, creative frequency for the new year
the crônica is a literary genre originating in brazil, distinct from the latin american crónica, nonetheless existing in the liminal space between nonfiction and fiction; mirror emoji’s crônicas are a practice in style and vulnerability, inspired by the former.
Greetings from the digital graveyard, I know I’m due for my yearly hellos.
My New Year’s resolution is to be more disciplined with my creativity. I spent a good and long chunk of my life waiting for the greatest idea to pop into my head, for the perfect weather, for the right moment. As I approach year twenty-six, I can confidently say that waiting is silly. I have my academic mentors and loved ones to thank for pulling me out of the purgatorial creative waiting room I designed for myself. It was out of fear, too.
Fear, no longer—maybe a squeamish anxiety here and there.
I figured the longer I sit around and wait for a good idea, the more I’m wasting time, writing off the “they’re only okay, not great” ideas before pen can touch paper. I think some people are too afraid to add structure to something that is inherently fun to them. Trust me, I get it. But where’s the fun in feeling defeated before you even start? It wasn’t an overnight decision to take my passions seriously.
I recently acquired a copy of Clarice Lispector’s Too Much of Life: The Complete Crônicas. Without exaggerating, it’s become a daily devotional—
For heaven’s sake, the problem is that content doesn’t exist on one side and form on the other. That would be easy; it would be like using a form to describe what already existed quite independently, namely, content. But the battle between form and content is there in the thinking process: the content is struggling to become form. To be honest, you can’t imagine content without form.
I had a night out with friends this past Saturday. My first outing in years, my first time authentically enjoying a social setting I would otherwise be nervous in. I felt the spirit of Eve Babitz in the room with me, but it could have been the vodka sodas and a loud bass felt across floors.
Only intuition can arrive at the truth with no need for either content or form. Intuition is a kind of deep, unconscious reflection that dispenses with form while form itself, before it finally emerges, is taking shape. If you must divide thinking or writing into two phases, it seems to me that form appears once the content is ready.
I’m in no space to promise a constant flow of words for others to read, glance at, ignore. I am, however, in a state of mind to promise myself intentional writing without embarrassment or shame. There’s nothing cringe about trying at something I love, and trying often.
the writing playlist:
let’s meet again soon,
cristina ꩜
p.s. — i have a literary love child with open submissions: ephemeras literary magazine
share your work, share the call. i shouldn’t be the only one pouring my guts out digitally.