i’ve been a fan of austin kleon’s work for a few years now, and i was eager to get my hands on his latest book, “steal like an artist”. billed as a “manifesto for creativity in the digital age”, it’s chock full of great quotes, illustrations, and advice on how to follow your interests and embrace your influences. and though the title says “artist”, the material inside is applicable to any medium. it’s perfect for creatively-frustrated creative types (which i know many of you are), and i loved it so much that i want to give you a copy!
what you’ll get
your very own copy of austin kleon’s “steal like an artist”, shipped anywhere in the world, at no cost to you.
you have until may 1st to enter.
every reblog is considered one entry (likes don’t count, nor do replies).
i’ll use random.org to choose three winners.
keep your inbox open so i can notify you if you win. if a winner doesn’t respond within 48 hours, a new one will be chosen.
p.s. if giveaways aren’t your thing, you can always pick up a copy on amazon.
p.p.s. this giveaway is not affiliated with or endorsed by tumblr or my employer, new york media.
what do you give the
woman who has everything?
mostly grief, it seems.
feel like writing today. feel like taking the day off and lying in the sun and stringing words together till they say exactly what i mean them to. feel like telling all the stories that run around half-clothed in my head like street urchins.
while it’s lovely to be a writer, it can be terrifying to actually write. which is why, like so many other days, i didn’t.
besides, it rained.
it’s not about competitive typing; it’s not about recognising the quotes; it’s not about anything but keying in a random selection of passages from writers ranging from krakauer to tarantino, punctuation and all.
what can i say, it’s ridiculously fun. oh, except for the annoying bit where you have to backspace and retype mistakes a la typewriters.
they call it typeracer.
just read this.
atwood, man. she’s lovely.
irish proverb, apparently. and while anne enright seems to be doing just fine on the luck front, here are two essays and a short story to help you decide when/ where/ whether to read the gathering.
what’s left of henrietta lacks, and my milk, two essays from the london review of books, circa 2000. and caravan, a tightly wound short from this morning’s guardian.
i wouldn’t skip the story.