The crónica is a uniquely Latin American medium that seems to me like a musing. It can be editorial or journalistic; it can be fiction. Prose. The crónica is a napkin with a transient, scribbled thought, and a song heard in the street. These are daily thoughts set down and made immortal, at least in the case of Clarice Lispector, who wrote weekly crónicas for Rio's The Jornal Do Brasil.
Having failed to start each day with 'morning pages' prescribed by The Artist's Way, which I haven't yet read, I wonder if I might start – or end – each week with a crónica, though I am American, and my body of work couldn't be compared to Lispector, nor my skill to hers. Still, I find myself wanting to write to her as her readers once did – to send her tuberose and plumeria, and drink with her on a quiet night. In that spirit, I will set down my crónicas, and the musings that might have lingered between us when the night was done.
Your call to action today: Seek out a scent that transports you.
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