Why write at all?

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.

Writing about nothing

The irony of this blog will become apparent as you read it. But the main point I want to make in it is actually one worth making. I want to address the question: What does a writer do when he or she has run out of ideas? And yes, this blog was prompted by a moment in which I myself wanted to sit down and write a blog but had completely run out of ideas. Hence the irony.

But then my mind kept ticking and I realised I knew the answer to this question.

You see, we live in an amazing, God-given world, a world brim full of incredible facts, experiences, ideas and stories. The problem is never that there is nothing to write about. It is only that a person (such as myself) has somehow found themselves in a place that is hidden away from the world that is there. Perhaps this is through sheer exhaustion (for we all get tired); perhaps it is through spending too long in a boring, colourless place; perhaps it is through simply forgetting to “stop and smell the roses,” even though the roses are right at your fingertips.

Whatever the reason, the solution is obvious. A writer—such as myself—has to re-engage with the world, even if it is only in very simple ways. So here are my top four simple “methods” (what a ghastly, managerial word) of re-engaging.

Firstly, get outdoors (preferably walking). Literally “smell the roses.” In fact, use all your senses to connect with the world that is there. Look at it, listen to it, feel it, smell it, taste it. If you do, you will have a thousand things to write about.

Secondly, read (voraciously). Find a book that inspires or challenges, that reveals new things or reinvigorates old ones. In recent weeks I have read C.S. Lewis’ God in the Dock and The Abolition of Man, A.A. Milne’s poetry, Anthony Horowitz’ Stormbreaker, two books about the future of artificial intelligence and one about the history of philosophy, and the Bible’s Mark, Ephesians, Hosea and more. All contained radical, inspiring things, and sparked all sorts of thoughts, like water splashed vigorously over a toaster. (Please don’t try that at home, but the metaphor is apt.)

Thirdly, spend time imagining. If you’re a writer like me, you’re probably something of a creative tragic. Allow yourself time to imagine and dream, preferably with pen and paper handy. Ideas, characters, landscapes and stories will somehow materialize, and all sorts of possibilities will begin to present themselves.

Fourthly, converse with really interesting people. Fortunately there are still a reasonable number of such characters to be found, in spite of the horrible march of commercialisation. But you still have to make the effort, once you have met them, to talk about interesting things (otherwise what is the point?). Yet, if you do, well again it’s like the water and the toaster. Sparks will fly. Ideas will form.

So there. I set out to write about “writing about nothing,” and I actually wrote about something. It only goes to show that the world really is relentlessly interesting, if I only allow myself to notice what is there. I think I’ll go for a long walk.

(c) Peter Friend, 2019