Everyday Canvas

Manifest Destiny of Writing

Prompt: Rebecca Solnit says: “Writing is saying to no one and to everyone the things it is not possible to say to someone. Or rather writing is saying to the no one who may eventually be the reader those things one has no someone to whom to say them.” Do you think she is referring to writing in relation to solitude? What do you think on the subject where your writing is concerned?

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I find this to be true for me in a roundabout strange kind of way. What I can’t tell people about how something is or was in my life, I can say it more openly, however in a covert fashion, in fiction or in a poem. Then some things are so subtle that their subtlety hides them even from my conscious thinking. Yet the whole thing comes out in view while I write. Sometimes, when I catch on to it, I am stunned beyond belief. The thoughts that come up, then, are in the area of: Didn’t I get over that already? Why did this haunt me again?

Whether the owner of the quote is referring to writing in relation to solitude or not, I wouldn’t know, but the writing process has something to do with us writers liking solitude for our minds to process everything in them. Surely there are some events, feelings, and thoughts that telling to someone, even a partner or a best friend, would sound odd, pointless, and out of place, or even scary. Yet when we write, we recuperate those things and even if serve them as a totally different dish, the basic ingredients are still there, and the dish is served to those presently absent readers who are willing to look at and taste it.

I do like to write in silence, but my life has turned out to be such that I end up writing with lots of noise around, with people talking to me, and with other things going on my immediate life that I need to take care of. I think, over the years, I got better in managing my writing whatever the distraction. It hasn’t been without losses though, such as a burnt meal or two, unanswered correspondence, unreturned phone calls, chaos in daily life, and I’m-telling-you-something-but-you-aren’t-answering admonishments and attitudes from family members. Yet writing is such a fascination for me that I am able to take it all in, process it, deal with it, and with each day, do more of that multitasking thing more efficiently than ever before.

It could just be that my currently absent, unknown, and faraway audience are the best listeners I’ll ever get, much better than a roomful of people who might or might not be willing to listen to what I have to say in my squeaky voice.