

I have dedicated myself to writing for more
than a decade. In that time I have grown
from an idealist to a pragmatist as I realized
that there is only one way to make your
mark on the world: not to succumb to the
industry's pressure to change your identity,
your voice, and medium of expression.
There is an audience out there for everyone.
All those who know me also know that I do
not beat around the bush when it comes to
advocating for originality in contemporary
writing.
It is a tremendously important decision to
make as you reach that inevitable
cross-road of your life as an artist: to be, or
to pretend to be, an artist.
My favourite quote, and one that I think
about every day, is by Jacques Cousteau:
"When one man, for whatever reason, has
the opportunity to lead an extraordinary
life, he has no right to keep it to himself."
The power to accomplish anything is in your
hands. You owe it to yourself to keep your
integrity as your good name. To be
submissive or prostrate yourself to others
in the hopes of gaining approval is an act of
betrayal - to self, to spirit, and to your work.
My favourite writers (geniuses, all of them):
Federico Garcia Lorca, Rainer Maria Rilke,
Italo Calvino, Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Octavio
Paz, Anna Akhmatova, Marina Tsvetaeva,
Irving Layton, Leonard Cohen, Henry Miller,
Milan Kundera, Czeslav Milosz, Patrick
Suskind, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Isabel
Allende, Arturo Perez-Reverte. And closest
to my heart, of course, would be the writers
of fairytales everywhere :)

Elisa Hategan
© Elisa Romero Hategan www.elisahategan.com
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.