Selection of Published Articles
(The articles of this selection, where published in Diario laRepública of Guatemala, during 1995 and 1996).

Content:
The Motifs of the Writer
The Phantoms of the National Theater
Tomorrow in the Evening I'll Go with You My Love
Literature and Resistance in Guatemala
50 years: Mr. and Mrs. Piedra Santa Founded an Empire Sustained by the Necessity of Knowledge andCulture
The Strasburg Cathedral and its Astronomic Clock
Theater for Students —A Perspective that Must Be Reoriented—
From Esopo to Monterroso
Martí in Guatemala - Continuous Theater Modality
First Fair of Guatemalan Peace and Culture 1996

IN CONSTRUCTION

Guatemala y la entrega de sus "Oscar"
Misión espiritual del teatro
Vivir cada 24 horas
El valor del dinero
Lo bueno y lo malo
Hablemos de arte y de los espacios culturales
Teoría de la fábrica de estrellas

© 2004: Manuel Corleto

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The Motifs of the Writer
Manuel Corleto


The writer is that kind of novel character who spends his time inventing plots and situations, imagining parallel worlds to the same existence, reinventing things that he sees and hears, joining fantasies that most of the times are less absurd than reality itself.
    Equipped with paper and pencil, doodle, squeeze, blur, stuff sheets of paper with symbols formed by the letters which constitute the words, in a succession of different longitude, forms and magnitudes, facts and happenings, which become the stories shaped in a manuscript reproduced in a book form.
    We know he wrote it because it says so in the book cover and in the first page. The author, from this perspective, is a metaphysical being with no age, sex, frontiers. And in his condition of universes creator, equal to the divinities, he is everywhere but rarely seen but by a few.
    Little professions concede a hale of so different tint, wrapped in a robe of mystery, adventure, wisdom, bohemia, romance, intrigue. Even he is given supernatural faculties, pacts with the devil, the ability of hearing voices from beyond and way beyond, automatic writing in a trance status and many more things.
    The writer goes to heaven, touches the stars, becomes one with the Sun. Goes down to hell, challenges the darkness, cohabitates with the shadows. He is the main character, the eyewitness, the third person. He is the one who gives and takes away, judge and executioner, first and last man in creation.
    He is the direct heir of the alchemists, the ones who moved the content —the soup letters— in the stew to transmute the word. He does one and another time the movement in an identical sequence, in a ritual that he knows by memory, in a repetition that, in spite of being an apparent routine, becomes a novelty in every spin.
    Where is it that he gets the strength from? The universal poem theory stands that noting is new under the sun, that in the same nature is consigned the great and perfect and unique text that exists between sky and earth, that the writer is not more than a kind of receptor, of catalyst, receiving the dictate as a secretary receives it from her boss.
    But, in the same way a secretary can get some orthographic mistakes, skip some letters or sentences, be careless and indolent, the writer, in the final text transcription, is susceptible to make errors. It may happen also that the receptor can't read or comprehend the totality of the meaning and recur to other contents for just filling spaces.
    Asked the writers about their motivations, the majority agreed about a kind of spontaneous inclination they had. No one said “I want to be a writer”, in the same way a child can manifest his will in becoming a doctor or an airplane pilot or a fireman. If the musician needs sound and silence, the dancer the rhythm and movement, the actor voice and action, the painter light and darkness, the writer has more than enough with all and nothing.
    All and nothing understood as the alpha and omega of creation, the a to z of the alphabet's existence, the beginning and end in the reading of the nature signs. From where if not the writer gets the raw material for his short stories, dramas, poems, novels?
    Then comes the need to be distant, to put the necessary time lapse between the event and the register. That's why most of what the writer writes is autobiographical, product of the proper or someone else's experiences, connected by the happenings, consigned in the annals of life.
    The writer's motifs can be many and diverse in appearances. It is like asking a blind person how he sees the situation or to a deaf if he has heard the rumors or to a mute if he has not spoken to protest. It is relative.
    I conclude with a text by Carlos Menkos-Deká (All has a meaning):
    1. It is easier that a camel gets into a needle's eye, than a rich to enter the heavens reign.
    2. It is easier that an eye gets into the needles reign, than for  heaven to enter the camel of rich.
    3. It is easier for a rich to pass by the eye of the camel, than a heaven enters the reign of the needles.
    4. It is easier that a reign passes the needle of the eyes, than for a rich to enter in the camel's reign.
    5. It is easier that an eye passes by the camel's heaven, than a needle in the richness of the reigns.
    6. It is easier for a needle to enter in the richness of the eyes, than a reign to enter the camel of the heavens.
    And too, even though less pure:
    7. It is richer for a heaven to pass by the camel's eye, than a reign to enter in the needle of the easy.
    8. It is more needle the one who passes by the heaven of the eyes, than rich who enters the camel's reign.
    (Affirmation that shows its experiences in life).
    And, lastly