When I say to someone “Oh, I’m an author,” the reactions are quite varied. Some nod their head, impressed, others give me less than a parting glance. On few glorious occasions, their face will brighten up and they will reply with “Really? Me too!” Yet there is at least a 50% chance that they will say “I have a story I started writing once,” or even more frequently, “Yes, I’ve had a few story ideas myself that I never wrote down.”
To others, writing might seem like a pastime, a hobby. But for those of us who do or intend to write for a living understand that writing is not mere pleasure activity--it is life. I’ve often said to peers and relatives that if I didn’t write, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I am always thinking of my next or current story, looking up inspiration and writing tips. It has encompassed everything that I do in that the thought of writing is never far from my mind. I know that many of you can relate.
So who are we, we mysterious sect of authors? There’s something that defines mere writing from the ultimate path down to authorship. I would say that it is the way that we see the world. Others might look past the large concrete building housing the software company; authors see it and think ‘What if that company was actually trying to produce an Artificial Intelligence unit?” A simple outing to a ‘normal’ person would be filed away as scenes to be used for later. Interesting or beautiful people become characters. Forests and parks become entire worlds for which one person’s fantasy can play out. Beth Revis sums it up quite well: “My inspiration tends to come from two words. The two most important words to a writer: What if?”
So who are we, the strange creatures known as authors? We are the creator of worlds, worlds where we can do anything we wish. We are the speakers of our soul, and we share these pieces of ourselves with others so that they might learn to live their lives better. We are the mothers and fathers of a generation that exist only in ink and paper. We have laughed with them, cried with them, borne their burdens with them. We have loved them. We have grieved the lives of a thousand men, lived the days of ten thousand. We are a legion of people, a single person, a hero, a villain, a savior, a friend.
In the end, we are dreamers.
That is all we need be.
But why?
Why do I write?
I might answer this question with one of my own: “Why do you breathe? Why does your heart beat?”
“I must,” You reply. “Or I will die.”
“So I write, or surely I will die.” I frown. “Of course, it goes much deeper than that. Why do you believe in things, be it God, yourself, science, or the words of some old eccentric who seems to understand life better than you?”
“Well...” You reply. “I must. Or I will cease to find purpose in my existence.”
I smile. “So I write--that I may find purpose in mine. Yet it goes far deeper than even that. Ask yourself: Why do you imagine or dream? Why does so much of your life fall to wistful fancies and impossible desires?”
You begin to grow rather frustrated. “I dream because that is who I am. If I did not, I would be denying myself.”
“So I write, that I may not deny myself.” I pause a moment before continuing. “And yet...why do you laugh? Why do you cry? Why do you continue day to day, caught up in the world of life, in the beautiful, horrible, insane tumult of life only to wake the next day and continue, and still find joy in it?”
“It is my soul!” You shout. “I do everything you have mentioned because if I do not do these things, I will die. I do them so that I may live!”
My smile deepens. “Writing is my soul. It is everything I am, everything I could be, stretching from the beginning of time to the end of the eternities. I write, not only so that I may not die.” I point a finger to your chest. “I write that through reading my writing, through living through my own soul that I give to the world, you my friend, may thrive in a way you never could have alone.
And only then, may I truly live.”
Being an author is more than simply putting pen to paper. It is almost a second living conscience--any good author will tell you that stories write themselves. So let it be your soul. It is truly who we are, and why we are.
-Mackenzie Seidel
No comments:
Post a Comment