Breaking the Silence...
In a conversation this morning with a writer-to-be new friend of mine, he wondered why he should write, why I write, why any of us should "break the silence of the universe." Why does this need to be told, he wondered, introducing me to several of his stories, each full of worthy characters and themes. He was responding in some degree to my oft-quoted Annie Dillard-ism that nobody really cares if you write or not, that the universe will get along nicely with or without the tome you're currently working on.
I wish I could report that I gave him a basketful of upbeat reasons to rush home and dash out his narratives, but the truth is I didn't. What are the reasons? It's hard to say. An idea teases us, and we launch into as many wherefores as we can stand, from the idealistic (I'm changing the culture!) to the pragmatic (I'm buying a house!) to the prideful (I'm winning an Oscar!) to the religious (I'm being called!). But in the end, who can say why we stir, why we drag over to the computer, type out a word or two, hoping to get to the end of the sentence, the paragraph--the novel, for heaven's sake? The reasons to tear into the story may be legion, but the only one that really matters is the one that gets our fannies into the chair to actually put the words down.
I find that from day to day, that one reason changes. Sometimes it's my family, the needs they have, both current and future. Sometimes it's a note from an obscure reader of Leaving Ruin ("Thank you for investing your heart and soul in your writing. Your labor of love has been a word of grace and hope to me." -- got that one a couple of weeks ago...). Other times it's a looming deadline and the promise of a paycheck. Every once in a while, it's sheer grace, some bit of prose showing up like a perfect fall day, asking no more of me than to simply catch it as it goes by.
And then there are those days, like the last couple, when no reason seems quite compelling enough, and I drag my backside to the chair (why do I have trouble joining in the current, constant use of the word "butt"?), and nothing really happens. I click here and there, and hours pass, and I slink away from my job, having done nothing but spit out some bleak words that are far more reflective of my mood that the state of things (as I am fond of saying).
But in the end, the silence of the universe is worth breaking. Is there anything as loud as the frank "thereness" of it all? Jesus said if the children of Israel stopped praising him, the rocks would cry out. And if the rocks (not to mention the mountains and seas) can't keep quiet, why should we?
Back to the tomes...
12:45:51 PM 
|
|
