The Notebooks of a Chile Verde Smmuggler- 131-151

“A writer with maids. Not in my book, buddy. Never in my book. My mother was a maid in El Paso, Texas, long enough. Are writers maids, now? Who do we cook for carnal , carnala?”

Herrera got his inspiration writing from his mother, who wasn’t well of at all. He doesn’t think that writers are people that live with maids, the ones that do it for the money and fame, but rather the ones who write from the soul and not through popularity. They write from their past. But he also contradicts himself. Does that mean that all writers now have to be poor to have troubles to write about? Or can some writers not have troubles and be well off? Does someone’s past tell weather or not they are a writer? It shouldn’t.

“I am that paper, I am those words now, that ink burns pyres in every cell.”

Herrera has become his writing. He writes everything he knows and has known. What comes into his mind goes on paper. What makes him who he is all written out. So there for what he is, is on the paper. The ink burns into every cell and he will for ever be on that paper, and that paper will represent him.