Conversation: Why Do We Write and Read? discussion
Why Do We Write and Read?
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Distillation of experiences, generosity to share, reveling in concept, probing the unknown or unfathomable - all are the structure that entices one to write, to indulge, to wallow.


I don't know when it was that writing became for me nothing like a metaphysical or spiritual or even consciously self-expressive activity. I suffered more than three decades of rejection before enjoying a measure of success. (It was not deserved. Out of seven
rejected novels, only one was really bad. The rest were pretty good!) Somewhere along the way, writing became an occupation I neither reveled in nor approached mystically. Too much rejection will do that. Writing was simply what I did, what I could not help doing. A compulsion, if you will. Often as much curse as blessing.
As Peter says, the pleasure is in the work. For me, that's simply because our minds need something to do. They wither without work. But is writing any different from many kinds of work? You get up in the morning, you do it, applying your best energies, and hope for the best. You change direction, consider market, reject market when you have to, embrace it whenever you can. All forms of work require a degree of creativity when done well.
I've never felt a character possess me, or step away from me, or motivate itself, although my mind sometimes surprises me with a direction I hadn't consciously anticipated. I've never understood when authors speak of characters who take over their work. That pose resembles schizophrenia to me.
Of all the arts, writing for me is most like music. When I am intensely focused on my words, it's their rhythm that most enthralls me, I think. I'm told by a friend/reader who is a professional musician that my prose has a distinct cadence, something involving triads. I haven't a clue what that means to my process, but ever since he said it, I try to chop up my internal series of threes, just to be ornery, I guess.
So, perhaps being self contradictory here, I believe there is an unconscious element in writing, unconscious in the Jungian sense. It may be neurotic, I don't know, but it's part of the pleasure and part of the compulsion both. Regardless, it's the conscious shaping of that element that makes the work sing. Otherwise, it's cacophony. It's vital that the creator never to lose control of the work, or the sound is like an orchestra playing on its own without a conductor. Banal, unshaped, unruly, dull.
I don't think about why I write anymore. Or even how. I just try to do it. So I may read all this later and decide I'm stuffed full of shite. But I thought I'd offer it anyway.

I rarely read purely for pleasure anymore. Perhaps because I've become too analytical about what I'm reading. It's a loss. Every once in a while I come across a text that enchants, that I can lose myself in. But less and less often.
I regret that.


But this brings up something else. How important the ear is when writing. If the voice sounds wrong, I always advise, then it IS wrong. Go back in the piece to where the voice sounded "right". Then start again.
The point is, it's not necessary to figure out why the voice went wrong. Don't waste time trying to determine the why. Just ditch it and start over.
I swear. It's all in the ear.

"All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.� So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there. It was easy then because there was always one true sentence that I knew or had seen or had heard someone say."
I would like to be able to do that more often. One true sentence after the other. That's the game, as complicated as chess and perhaps just as frustrating at times.
But there is something more than the mechanical challenge. There is also the challenge to tell a story that captures the heart and imagination of the reader. To be a master storyteller, the way my sixth-grade camp counselor was a master in telling a ghost story around the campfire that scared the willies out of me. The intonation of his voice--the whispers and the explosive finish--had me riveted from the first sentence. Could I do that as a writer?
Finally, sometimes I may sneak in a profound message (or what I take as profound), but most of the time, it is just the unpredictable ride that counts, as I watch what happens to the characters who come alive and reveal themselves on the page. Yahoo!

As far as the challenge of telling a captivating story goes, I usually imagine I'm telling it to myself. I'm a hard audience. If I entertain or inform or move me, I've got a good chance of doing so for strangers. Also, that intimacy with my own vision creates an authenticity I'd have trouble finding elsewhere.

Ah,your comments made me smile. Why? Because it rings true. I love the idea of "one true image" and being your "own hard audience." It seems that I am constantly having a dialogue with myself: This is boring. This is exciting. This is predictable. This is a wonderful surprise.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

But when that one reviewer gets the humor (Python-esque), digs the techno-babble... then it seems worthwhile.
Ah, the ego of it all...

Without ego, we'd be what? All id and superego? Oy! The horror, the horror!
Mary wrote: "And here I am, the killjoy.
I don't know when it was that writing became for me nothing like a metaphysical or spiritual or even consciously self-expressive activity. I suffered more than three d..."
Your reply was more like the killdeer, Mary, bright and piercing, an honest flash of wings in the blue sky.
I don't know when it was that writing became for me nothing like a metaphysical or spiritual or even consciously self-expressive activity. I suffered more than three d..."
Your reply was more like the killdeer, Mary, bright and piercing, an honest flash of wings in the blue sky.

I miss it greatly, though. I often pick up a pen and wait for something to come to me and on to the page. I don't know if it's because that I'm feeling better or if it's the medication that I've lost my muse. When it does come, though, there's a distinct gallows humour to everything I write. I guess that's depression in its peak, though; we try to find laughter in the things that hurt us. I do enjoy writing black humour and my friends and colleagues say I'm disturbingly good at it. Ha! I'm not sure what that says about me. I will admit, though, I get a perverse pleasure from making people squirm with laughter and horror.
But I'll never get past that feeling when I'm writing; that moment when you build up and build up, pushing against the wall of words until it all suddenly breaks through and everything rushes out and your pen can hardly keep up with your mind. It's exhilarating.




Kinds of reminds me of the need for a definition of art over craft...
How about a brand new word? Newspeak?
Yes! I also think we need some new words! We've mixed up creative writing so much with commercial success and approval from the New York Times and best-sellers and, even, with being some kind of truth-seeker and cultural hero. I kind of agree with the truth-seeker part, but we've aggrandized and distorted that, too. Jeanette's description was so appropriate--the simple, personal exhilaration.
Somehow this new word should connote that. Like riding a sled in fresh white snow. The autumn colors of red and yellow. Something that shows how human and delightful and important and everyday natural this is...
Let's think on this.
Somehow this new word should connote that. Like riding a sled in fresh white snow. The autumn colors of red and yellow. Something that shows how human and delightful and important and everyday natural this is...
Let's think on this.

Seeking the world as a canvas in which we capture in words only another writer would see becomes the gift we ourselves receive when we are indeed, captured by another writer.
Thinking on this now..thank you, even though I am late in responding. I just now saw this group.

Kim wrote: "Wow, that is so well said, Sharma! Such pearls of wisdom! And so poetically expressed! Humbly, my additional two cents would be: Beautiful yet powerful, writing can make sense of absurdity. More po..."
Yes, that is such a dimension, too--opening up to new ideas. I think of writer and reader always as colleagues, with lots of common ground, but that still means that we learn new things when we read and build on our existing ideas. Thanks, Kim, for these thoughts.
Yes, that is such a dimension, too--opening up to new ideas. I think of writer and reader always as colleagues, with lots of common ground, but that still means that we learn new things when we read and build on our existing ideas. Thanks, Kim, for these thoughts.
My first thoughts:
Writing is discovery of the self, a kind of archaeology, going into the unconscious, bringing up feelings and ideas into the light—the nature of insight. In sight. Writing is motion, action, throwing words on the page and being part of how they interact and resonate and attract and repel. Thinking really does come out of language. And writing is about being actively engaged in language. Writing is play. Writing is theater. We get to be everything in the stories we write-- a different sex, a different age, a different culture, a different species. We are a king and a fox and a leaf in the wind. We are the wind. And I believe this reflects a basic truth. I believe we are, in fact, part of everything. Science tells us that. The mystics tell us that. Writing is a kind of experiential mysticism in which we try to mimic the unity of the universe. In which every sound, every syllable, every word, every idea, every image is part of a larger whole.
Reading is a dialogue with someone engaged in this process. Like a good conversation with a friend, we are fully participatory. There is a back and forth. We bring our own ideas. We are part of the theater—we are everything in the story. A king, a fox, a leaf. The wind. We experience the unity.
These are my ideas and experiences. We'd like to know yours.