Paradoxes of writing May 8, 02007
There is a strange phenomena in the art of writing. On the one hand, every writer wants her writing to find response among the readership, i.e. to be universal. On the other hand, you can only write well about things unique to you — things you are interested in, belonging to your inner world (which no one else fully understands). Looks like, contrary to habitual opinion, personal is the most universal.
We don’t fully know how exactly we are unique. In a sense, one is unique rather with the vector of her growth than with something she already has, so, an objective knowledge of what your uniqueness consists in is impossible.
Looks like the bridge between personal and universal is interest. The more interesting, i.e. emotionally engaging, is the matter to the writer, the more exciting may her writing be to the readers. (If, of course, one is of sound mind :) So, emotions, a deeply personal and irrational thing which is so often considered as standing in the way of objectivity, turns out to be a criterion of universality and, therefore, verity.
But there are different kinds of excitement. A cops and robbers films produces an intensive but low-quality excitement, especially if you already passed the teen age. By the way, as I reread adventure books from my childhood, I find that I almost don’t recall the plot. My memory kept only things (or states of mind?) which were unrelated to the plot. And by some strange occurrence exactly those states of mind are still exciting and still productive for me now.
A plot, however dramatic, is but a mean to manage reader’s attention. It just makes the transition to a productive reality easier. It is just one of many possibilities, yet often misused as reality’s substitute.
Malevich’s Black Square is a declaration of radical rejection of object/plot in painting. In literature, an example of similar attitude is Proust’s work where through an objectless plot constantly shines author’s mind and emotions, provoking reader’s emotions as a deep inner resonance which is totally different from the plot adrenaline.
Through a habit, which is born out of plot-dominated art, we sometimes even imagine our own lives as such a stories, trying to deduce their meaning from plot details. That is where empty hopes and naive adventurism, as well as most of business storytelling come from.
But reality is different — only our dreams are real, only emotions speak, and only our path exists, with its beginning and end hidden from our eyes :)
