Writing can mean different things to different people: scribbling, drawing, tracing, or whatever one chooses to do with their pen.
I know you’re already wondering what writing means to me. Relax. I will tell you. Writing to me is: sending a single word on an errand and on returning, it comes back with a thousand other words, replicating your thoughts in clear written expressions. Yes, writing is cooking up words garnished with different flavours of thoughts; mixing word-like ingredients and preparing edible nutrients specifically for the eyes and mind. Picking out special herb-like information for the healing of any sick mind.
Writing is baring the soul, freeing the mind, and liberating the being from the relentless torments that possess it. Writing is choosing to fight wars with your sword placed neatly in its sheath, refusing to draw blood, insisting and maintaining that the best way to fight is to pierce people’s consciences with words that call their minds to action.
I am a writer and have been for as long as I can remember. I recall the countless times I held board meetings in the executive chambers of my head, asking the voices in my head why they chose to dwell in my brain and refusing to free my mind from its endless struggles. “Must I write?” “Must you persuade me to tell tales?” “Must I have an opinion on every commotion?” “What if I refuse to speak?” “What if I shut you out and decide to slaughter every single voice that has chosen my mouth to voice their concerns?”
Questions, unending questions, fall like dews in winter. Countless torrents were raining and erupting like flames from a volcano. Yes, right here is a writer in torment.
A writer is a messenger, a seer, a griot, who has been straddled with the responsibility of uncovering secrets that are better kept covered. Stories that should be left untold. He/She gives insight to clueless discoveries, produces solutions to dilemmas, unravels puzzles, speaks endless riddles, and directs whoever deems fit to cast lots to unearth deeply entrenched mysteries.
People wonder how writers write, what inspires them to write, and how writers manage to place words in such a way that they look like portraits drawn with the best brushes and displayed on the costliest canvases. This intrigue baffles writers too. Most writers can’t say for certain what propels them to write and why they write the way they do. All they know is that they hear a call, and the voice says, “Hey! Slave to my pen. I have some information for you. Now write!” And as a writer, you have no choice but to obey this clarion call.
Follow the voice and adhere to its directions. The voice is your master, and you are its servant. You are like a box, and you must deliver whatever package is placed in your insides. Yes, you obey, you don’t complain. You obey because you want to buy your peace. Refusing to adhere means torture, restlessness, and that feeling of failure and emptiness. So whenever you’re asked to wake up and write, you rise and listen to the muse.
Is writing a skill? Can it be learned? To me, writing is a talent that can be harnessed and improved on. The more one writes, the better one gets at it, but is there a difference between a born writer and someone who is learning to be one? I guess I will leave this to their choice of words to be the jury in this case.
Writing is a war front where the messenger, the writer, is left in the middle to fight with his conscience and society.
No! I am not the one who will say this. This particular piece conflicts with my moral stance. Oh! Not again. This information goes against my religious convictions. What? This is so debasing. I won’t write something like this. It doesn’t represent me. One contender is a writer’s conscience. Another is, “Frederica, I least expected you to write something like this.” What will others think of you? My friend, you reveal far too much about your personal life in your writing style. Must you use that particular word? Come on, you can do better.
Another woe! Society and individual psychological, emotional, and sentimental dispositions! Everybody has an opinion about how you should write and what you should and should not say. How sad!
So you are torn into several smaller pieces, trying to strike a balance on how you can maintain your sanity, have a clear conscience, remain friends with those voices by whose command you live, and please others while being true to the muse that has possessed you.
Trying to exist in a world that places people as stereotypes and whose pleasure it is to dictate how others should live their lives, and when this isn’t adhered to, bashing, ridiculing, opposing, and dragging is meted out.
What will help a writer maintain his originality despite all these struggles?
Listen intently to the voice that leads you; speak the words that it brings you; speak your truth; and live for real.
Don’t be a people pleaser. Even if you dance to the tune everyone wants you to gyrate to, the insatiable nature of man will guarantee you have enemies, critics, and, if you are blessed, some friends.
To be a writer whose words will live long after you have gone, you have to be true to your master. Be original, speak your truth in that language that only you understand. Find a way of striking a balance if you must, but never silence the voice that guides you. Always be true, be real; that’s why you were chosen.
Yeah, speak your truth because you don’t know how long you will do this job. For the time being that you have been picked to send this message, be true to the one that has sent you. Listen and let your Chi guide your path.
