The Motive Page #2

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and get out there, and look for stories.

Is it really so complicated?

The thing is I get writer's block,

and the books that inspire me are...

But you shouldn't be getting

your inspiration from other books.

Books are written to be read.

To get inspired, all you have

to do is live, damn it, live!

Observe, listen.

Have you ever tried that?

And if you get blocked,

do what Hemingway did,

write in the nude

with your balls on the table.

I'm telling you this

for your own good, lvaro.

You're going backwards, not forwards!

I don't know.

You've been coming here for so long,

but you still don't get it.

Just focus on something

that has a glimmer of truth in it.

In this three years you have never

shown me not even a truthful sentence.

Anything... I don't know...

Write about how you like

your steak cooked,

or the last handjob

your wife gave to you,

or how you stick your finger up the ass,

or how you hate me!

But write about something real,

something that has

an element of truth to it.

I'm sorry, mate, but...

if I don't get it off my chest,

I'm going to explode!

Where are you going?

- I live here. On the third floor.

- You're the new guy?

Yes, the new guy.

Good evening.

lex told me you were living here.

I'm going to tour with the book.

We're going to go round

the big department stores.

- What about Bruno?

- I'm taking him with me.

The publishers are going to get me

someone to take care of him.

- I can take care of him.

- lvaro.

You're acting like a child,

and you don't realize it.

What don't I realize?

That your subconscious

is betraying you.

You think you're doing one thing,

but really you're doing another.

What are you talking about?

You were late for my award show.

- The master class ran over.

- You always have an excuse.

Your head's always in the clouds,

you never live in the now.

- In the now?

- Yes.

Living in the present moment.

Manu explained it all to me.

- Manu?

- Manu.

He's a charming man,

and he's really helped me

understand what's wrong with me

and what's wrong with you.

You talk about me with Manu?

That's why I'm here, lvaro.

I want to help you.

You're jealous of my book.

You're jealous of my success.

What really bothers you

isn't that I've slept with someone else,

it's that I've been able

to write the book

that you've spent years

trying to write.

You've spent your whole life

wanting to write,

spending your money on workshops

and reading.

But you've never dared

to do anything real.

I don't know.

You live in the future, in your dreams,

meanwhile, the world goes on without you.

You have to face up to who you are.

If your talents don't lie in writing,

then give it up.

Give it up, but you have to face facts.

Live your life.

Try to be happy.

Your little book

is nothing more than literature

for the masses, easy writing.

It does make you smile

every once in a while, but...

to suggest I'm jealous

of you having written

a mere sub-genre novel,

shows me you haven't understood

anything at all.

I want to write literature.

You hear me? Real literature.

I don't want to do a tour

of the big department stores,

and sell 300,000 copies.

I want to tell the truth,

and to do that I need to find my voice.

My own voice.

And you know what that voice is saying?

No.

That you can go f*** yourself!

Her face remained petrified,

her glance, isolated.

Her half-opened lips

froze in the moment

of speaking unworthy words.

Marta had just received a punch

directly into her lack of humbleness,

into her insolence.

In all her life

nobody had never told her

to go f*** herself.

Sincere.

Ironic.

To the point.

With spirit, full of life.

And your own voice.

I thought you might have let what I said

to you the other day get you down,

but no, Sir!

There's a writer inside of you,

bring him out!

Thank you.

Thanks a lot. Thank you.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

I read your wife's book.

It's what I'd call

literature for the masses,

easy writing, but it's pretty funny.

Makes you smile

every once in a while.

Why don't you ask her

to stop by the class one day,

and we can have a talk

about sub-genres and things like that.

But my story...

You liked my story, right?

To live, to observe, to listen.

Keep on that way.

Where's the bread?

There is one package in the cupboard.

You shouldn't eat so much bread.

- You need to eat more fruit.

- You know I don't like fruit.

Yeah, and you always go on about it

in front of the kids.

No wonder it's so hard for me

to get them to eat it.

- Ah... so now it's all my fault?

- Help me lay the table, please.

- And the opener?

- There, as usual.

- As usual? Where?

- There it is, I can see it from here.

Could you please take the plates?

Let's go!

Can I help you?

I'm your new neighbour. Flat 3A.

My name's lvaro. And you?

It's just that I saw you go off

in the ambulance the other day.

- You look a lot better.

- It was just gas.

- I'm sorry?

- Gas, I said. Gas!

It gets into your chest,

and feels like something else.

But I'm perfectly fine, thank you.

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

I'm lvaro. I've just moved in

on the third floor.

I live on the third floor too.

- Irene.

- My pleasure.

I'm going to take the stairs.

Have a good day.

Have a good day.

- What's for dinner?

- Sardines and salad.

- Sardines?

- Yes.

You have to eat your fish,

otherwise you won't grow strong.

- Hey, not goodies.

- Just one.

Just one.

You still have to dinner.

- What's for dinner?

- Sardines and salad.

- Sardines?

- Enrique!

So you?

That's why they don't want

to have their fish.

No, goodies, too?

You're both the same.

Can we...?

No, not here, Enrique.

How long's it been

since we did it in here?

Let's go to bed.

They will hear us.

Wait a second. I will...

You're going to make me scream,

you bastard.

Hey, stick it in me. Harder.

Hold on, hold on.

Once again.

I'm your whore, you bastard.

- My whore.

- Your f***ing whore.

- My woman.

- Your f***ing whore.

- My woman.

- You bastard.

Next Tuesday I want

the structure exercises done.

Are you in a hurry, Sir?

I'd like to show you something.

Excuse me, Juan,

I have a fairy tale published.

Thank you.

- Now?

- It's just an idea,

but I'd really like

to get your opinion on it.

Let's have a look.

Wouldn't you prefer

to go to the bar downstairs?

I'll shout you a glass of wine.

You like wine, don't you?

Just the good ones.

A novel about a building?

About the characters in it.

Like The Hive, by Cela.

A novel which speaks

about the social reality of our times.

So now you want to be

Camilo Jos Cela.

You said so yourself.

I don't live in New York,

I live in Seville.

I have to listen to the street,

find my voice, and I've found it.

Well, I was referring more to...

My voice is here. I felt it.

The novel's here.

The dialogues,

the expressions, the sounds.

Yeah, but you still have to write it.

And here I can't see any characters,

I can't see anything,

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