Saturday, December 11, 2010

More on writing

I once wrote something here, rambling on and on about why we write. And back then, there was a seed of something. I had something to say, on the tip of my tongue, and it kept rolling about in my head, but just wouldn't come out in words on the paper.

Most people carry on this conversation in their heads, constantly analysing what's going on. Thinking always, not stopping. Even when asked, "what are you thinking about?" most of us would often reply, "nothing," even though, there's stuff in there. It's private, to some extent, but mostly, you think that it's noise. Ambient, background, continuous noise. Elevator music.

But when we write, we think we must have a story to tell. Something important that the world should know and that we have to structure it properly, and present it so that it's legible, and comprehensive. We prepare for our writing much like we prepare for a business presentation, or write a paper for school, or put together a business plan, or fill out a loan application form. Not necessarily enjoyable work, necessary work, but tedious.

But it's easy when friends get together and sit around, have a few drinks, laugh and just let the conversation happen. One person starts with a story which then reminds another of something else that happened. The jokes flow easily. People laugh, they argue and the speed of the diction is furious. There's no real planning, only some careful thinking that happens almost naturally. Without forethought. It's not as though you're planning each section in your head and then presenting it in logical order. No. You're using your own voice and just saying what's in your mind. All the while, watching the faces of your audience to make sure that they're getting what you're talking about and correcting yourself, on the go. Your natural voice shapes your words. The sound of your voice adding flavour to story, including your body language and your actions. Waving your hands. Pointing here and there. Pausing, for effect and digestion. Sometimes looking from face to face to face. And then, as often happens, someone jumps in. Like a car that cuts you off on the highway, you swerve and try to get back in front again. Depending on how aggressive the driver of the new voice in this conversation is, you might never take the lead in that story.

That's how easy it is. We all participate, whether we want to or not.

But when we write, it's very different. We don't have that audience in front of us to look into their faces and judge their reaction. We only have that voice in our heads urging us on to put into writing those thoughts in our heads. If you can, you can build that story, not planning ahead, not anticipating, but letting it happen. What does that mean? It's almost like you're part of the audience in your head. Like everyone else, you're watching the play waiting, almost with baited breath, to see what's going to happen next. And so you put yourself into those perplexing situations, you're uncomfortable, you try to wiggle your way out, but can't. If you did, that would be fantasy and as even you wouldn't believe that it's that easy to get away, neither will your audience.

That person in your head isn't judging you. They want you to talk. They want to read what you have to say, but with honesty. They want you to go and do your research if you can't find a way to explain it. They don't want anything contrived or made up. They are looking for the real deal.

And, they're also looking for it in your voice. That everyday voice that you use when you're speaking to people, at work, in school, in public, to that audience, to your family and to yourself. The same respectful, caring voice is the only one that they would like to hear. Because when you speak, when everyone is waiting to hear what you're going to say next, you always think carefully, and speak well.

We write because we care. We write because if we don't we feel miserable. We write because it fulfils us. We write because when we write we hear our own voice and that voice calms and soothes us.

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