Sooner or later, every writer asks the most basic of
questions: Why should I bother writing at all? In a world full of (literally)
hundreds of millions of books, what on earth is the use of trying to add one
more to the pile? And when we consider shorter pieces—such as articles, blogs,
poems, reviews and short stories—we realise the volume of existing texts is
astronomical, and increasing by millions every day. What is the value of trying
to publish one more minuscule piece?
It’s interesting to note that a virtually identical question
is almost never asked: Why should I bother to speak today? Why should I hold a
conversation? Most of us, even the shyest among us, take it for granted that it
is worthwhile opening our mouths to converse. We find it natural to want to
discuss things with others, even if we stumble over our words. We want to
communicate. We want to have conversations—the more creative, colourful and
probing the better.
Psychologists and sociologists tell us that communicating
with others is one of the basic needs of human beings. They go as far as saying
it’s what makes us human. Apparently, communication—putting things into words,
and engaging meaningfully with the words of others—is intrinsic to us being us.
All of us, apparently, want to be part of a global discussion, even if it means
talking today with just one other person. We want to join in the conversation
of our planet.
I hope you can see where I am going with this. Writing, you
see, is part of this global conversation. And it has advantages over merely
spoken words. It’s speech taken up a level to the world of text, which means at
least three things.
Firstly, writing is (or has the capacity to be) more
carefully composed than speech. A spoken sentence has to roll off the tongue in
a moment. A written sentence, by contrast, can take as long as you care to
spend on it. You can take your time weighing it up, choosing the right words,
reflecting on the thought and logic of it, and making sure it makes sense in
connection with all that has come before it, and in connection with what will
follow. In other words, written text can add to the ongoing discussion of our
planet more coherently than off-the-cuff speech—and more logically, and more creatively.
A writer can spend as long as they need before they write a sentence or a
paragraph. Thus text has the capacity to be far more informed, and far more
creative.
Secondly, writing has the capacity to reach far more people
(generally) than speech, in terms of both space and time. Not only can you be
read—potentially—by people all over the globe, but you can also be
read—potentially—by future readers for decades or even centuries to come. Now, that’s a conversation worth being part
of. Of course, there are many uncertainties. After all, it’s very difficult to
predict if your writing will be much read, and for how long. But the potential
is there in a much more powerful way than with speech.
Thirdly, writing, by its very nature, allows others (and
perhaps many others, as I’ve just said) to engage with your text much more
fully than if it were spoken words. For, with a text before them, a reader can
be just as engaged and reflective as the writer was when he or she composed the
text. A reader can chew over a text as long as they like, agreeing with, or
pushing back on, any storyline or line of thought. Thus they too can “keep the
discussion going” in their own minds and lives, and even share it with others.
In the end, therefore, I don’t think we should be too
bothered by the astronomical pile of writing that is being added to each day.
After all, there are many more readers out there than writers. And the writers
are the ones who are adding great value (hopefully!) to the ongoing
conversations of our world, conversations that readers are constantly joining.
I guess, if you’ve read to the end of this blog, you probably
agree.
© Peter Friend, 2019. All rights reserved.
