So, when you are writing, remember that there countless other perspectives than yours. Falling into this trap of believing your words are somehow universal is, to put it simply, immature.
When you are writing, you are giving freedom to your thoughts. Writing for yourself is a fantastic exercise that everyone, no matter how good they are, should do regularly. Keeping track of your experiences and ideas can be a great gift to someone later in life.
That said, writing for others takes a completely different mindset.
The other day, I wrote a poem for the first time in years. I won’t share it here for two reasons:
1. The poem is ridiculously personal and embarrassing.
2. No one would understand it except for me.
(Yes, yes, I understand that there are great works of literature out there that we will never fully understand because the author did not share its true meaning, but that doesn’t mean that I am seeking anything other than catharsis.)
When I write for an audience, however, I have to rely on more than just my own thoughts and values. I have to pull from shared experiences (which I frankly assume) and translate them into words that I believe will resonate with people.
That, I believe, is what makes a good writer. Empathy. The ability to speak to a lot of people in a meaningful or practical way without alienating yourself in the process.
Enjoy the words.
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1 thought on “There is Only One Of You”
phoenix is playing my song “entertainment” anyhow the meaning of life is in everything, it all evolves around us, the seed into a fruit tree, our minds & bodies aging, accumulations of material items but only to watch rust & time destroy them.
as others around us pass away, we realize that what was truly important was the relationships that we had with them, the memories of friendship or jumping off of river town bridge into icy water. we realize that love, friendship is priceless & once that person is gone, what good was gaining all the wealth that ive accumulated.
as new memories become volunteering & giving to charity while pictures fade & memories fade & the realization becomes what have I wasted all this time on. I wasted it to accumulate but not to mend. I wasted it on destroying but not sharing. I wasted it on making a point that I was right in that argument but who knew that he passed away days later.
we all will realize that our lives are like that of a glass bottle filled with sand & eventually it will all be used up. So id say do good, volunteer & grab others with you to becoming volunteers & charity, call up old friends & family members, mend the broken relationships & if they don’t accept you shake the dust from your feet & move on to the next one, heck do what I do, just show up, yep that’s me, im that kinda guy. so hey, where u been, I aint heard from you, what u got to eat in the fridge, good deal, lets grab a bite to eat, come on, the taxi is waiting.
sincerely from the fantasy writer of “LondenBerg by Lord Biron”