Miguel Yarull: "Happiness is a big table full of people."

Miguel Yarull, writer and screenwriter, is one of the most prominent contemporary authors in Dominican literature. From the publication of his first book, the surprising "Bichán," to his first novel, "Guapo," Yarrull's virtuous prose manifests itself as a vibrant, agile, and turbulent way of portraying his world. We spoke with him, of course, about sins and sinners:

—I forgive you for one sin.

—It would have to be laziness, with its rebranding: procrastination . The worst part is that acknowledging it makes me feel powerless, but sins have that power: they're usually bigger than the individual.

—Explain that to me, I'm interested.

—As an author, I look back on what I've published and feel like I could have done more . Someone said that being a writer is like having homework every day of your life. Now imagine carrying that feeling in your backpack, a task that never ends: you can't help but feel guilty and lazy at the same time.

—Which would be harder for you to forgive in another?

—Envy. Feeling unhappy because someone else's talent or effort is producing results seems miserable to me.

—Is your profession more prone to that sin than others?

—This is a profession sustained by ego. A writer can't help but measure himself against other writers. It's practically a reflex, and anyone who says otherwise is lying. So, being envious would be a natural step. But envy poisons ; it diminishes you. It's important for me to constantly review myself, almost to overcompensate. The support, even the criticism, I offer is sincere. And I confess that, perhaps innocently, I expect the same in return.

—Which could excuse?

—Gluttony. I can understand indulging, surrendering to it. Happiness is a big table full of people. We want to be satisfied, but we also want more. Stopping and realizing that we've had enough, not just with food and drink, with wealth or fame , isn't easy. Of all the deadly sins, along with anger, it's perhaps the one that most depends on self-control. And we already know how humans fare in that department.

—Maybe it shouldn't be a sin.

—I think the list is fair. Fincher proved it masterfully. Seven is a good number, and they all do their part to contain our baser instincts. Perhaps some could be promoted to the top ten that Moses received at Sinai , to the Major Leagues of sin. But until that happens, the list seems accurate to me.

—Wouldn't you add any?

—Vanity . And I'd put it high on the list. We live in profoundly vain times. The need for recognition is endless, and things done out of vanity fit the definition of sin perfectly.

—Any are particularly recurrent in your literature?

—Lust, in my most obsessive stories, where my characters fail to contain themselves in the most mundane situations. Arrogance is almost the cornerstone of my first novel, 'Guapo'. The guy who returns from Spain to Santo Domingo for his father's funeral, a soldier with a violent past who took him out of the country thirty years ago for being a problem, that family dominated by arrogance and appearances. I've delved into greed when I've written about the state, politics, inequality, and social classes in my country.

—There are hardly any missing.

—Sins are fundamental to good drama . What would we write about if our characters were perfect? ​​Without temptations, sins, and sinners, we wouldn't have literature.