Toe in the Water

Writing for the Morrow

Writing for the Morrow

Hunting through my old blog out there on the net, I came across a post that still holds some relevance for today. Being not averse to using old stuff to fill in gaps of inspiration in the present, I decided that it was worth copying it to my WdC blog. That way, I get a vacation of sorts.

Very often it's what you don't say, you know. We are strange creatures and much of our communication consists of an expression about the eyes, a pause where none was expected, a tug of the ear or a sigh. Ask any married woman and she'll confirm that most of what she knows about her husband comes from what he never said.

It's the same with writing. If we try to say it all, we end up with a textbook, something that leaves the reader with no room to add or interpret. The best work a writer does is in the selection of what really matters and in discarding the rest. The reader will supply the details, very often much more than the writer had imagined. So the piece, whatever it is, becomes a joint project, a framework upon which many possibilities can be draped. And this is how it becomes what we call "engaging".

It is not a writer's trick, a technique that can be employed as part of a formula. The writing itself dictates what must follow next, the demands of flow require that each sentence is a result of the form and intent of the previous; the writer stands between the thought and the text, a filter that rejects far more than it accepts. That is not something that can be learned, I think.

It is in blogging that one can see how this functions most immediately. The possibility of comments has introduced an extra dimension that moves the ancient skill of writing into new and untasted pastures. I have always thought that to write a book is to have an opportunity to have your say without fear of interruption. But to write a blog is merely to introduce a topic for discussion.

Of course, this whole thought process has been brought about by my previous post, An Unlikely Dream (http://www.madtv.me.uk/goneaway.aspx?BlogID=160). As many commenters pointed out, it is a simple story that functions on many levels and allows the readers to take from it what they will. But the contributions of the readers through the comments system have added to the original concept until it becomes a conversation touching on many subjects (and ending in a discussion of Linux, of all things!).

Take, for instance, the perceptive thoughts of Trée (who has one of the most original and interesting blogs on the net): "I suppose everyone will read into the story what they will, and why not? Once posted the post is really not yours anymore but becomes a small piece of all who read it and in that way multiples itself into thousands of variations, like pieces of a mosaic, each individual, yet all part of the same. Beautiful message, as I filter the story through my own lenses and see more of what is inside me than what is inside you."

From a literary point of view, the comments system has raised the potential for blogging beyond its present achievements. The blogosphere is already becoming known to the outside world through the influence exerted by its political exponents. Is it possible that this new medium might impact the literary world in the same way? Will readers of the future expect to be given the opportunity to answer back? Must writers ply their trade with the knowledge that thousands peer over their shoulders even as they tap at the keyboard?

It is something to think about. The book will not be supplanted, of that I am sure. But every day, as I learn more of blogging and bloggers, it strikes me more forcibly that this is something entirely new, a challenge to writers and a medium with potential that we have hardly begun to tap.

And yes, you're right: I have not said it all…


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