When I’m writing I often think about things happening around me that are far more important than what I have on my mind at the moment, and I’m usually struck by the chutzpah I must have to persist in my textual peccadilloes when some country or other is in flames.
But I keep writing anyway.
Why?
I answered myself, and I will share the answer with you:
1. I have no control over when someone will read me; wringing my hands over something today will likely mean nothing to someone tomorrow who has the benefit of hindsight that I don’t have in the moment.
2. I’m an entertainer. All writers are. I enjoy being read.
3. It's risky. Like people who talk for a living (TV and radio hosts, sports announcers), you can't write something every day about yourself without alienating someone.
4. I'm a romantic. More practical and jaded now, but that makes the romance only more complicated and enriching.
5. Like Walt Whitman, I get to be unapologetically contradictory when it suits me.
Good writing is equal parts music and story. Great writing is nearly entirely music.
It’s a sliding scale. Truman Capote is at the musical end. Dan Brown is at the other.
I'd rather you misunderstand and dance with me than fully understand but not enjoy a word.
c0
When I sweat over a piece, it’s as taxing and exhausting as any physical activity, maybe more so. A devoted writer suffers over intractable words, and the tepid responses of readers who recoil as though I’m a comedian bombing on stage.
c0
I know there are people that read me and don’t tell me. That’s okay. I read a number of blogs and don’t tell the writer. Why? I don't want to say anything that stops them from doing exactly what they're doing.
[2014-02-23]
c0
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