Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there.

Helga’s Post # 23:

Thomas Berger thought so, and I agree. Here are some reasons why ‘I’ write:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAFrequently, I get asked what gets me to do this crazy thing, writing fiction. Why am I, and other supposedly rational folks writing a story that takes a fair chunk out of a person’s life from the little that’s left of it. A lot of those grains of sand sinking to the bulging bottom of life’s hourglass on something that may lead – nowhere.

Well, somebody has to tell that story. There’s no choice. If I won’t write it, it will never be told. Imagine the consequences: a story that nobody before me thought of, a story that is incredibly important to me, where I gave birth to people that nowhere else exist but in my mind but who matter to me, people who nobody will ever get to know? A story that I, or any writer for that matter, found important enough to conceive, to think through to the end, to embellish, to change, to improve during many sleepless hours of the night?

Clearly, not writing if you have a story to tell, is not an option. Especially from the point of view of the person who first created it, and, if he or she is a writer, to put it into words and save it for posterity.

Can there be a more noble vocation than writing?Build Your Writer's Platform & Fanbase In 22 Days front cover

Not that it’s a profitable vocation (unless you are writing ‘how-to-get-published’ books or ‘how-to-suck-eggs’ instructions for aspiring authors). Read Joe’s post of yesterday. He puts it bluntly. Even a pimply-faced kid makes more money working at McDonald’s. So writing is not a vocation for the needy.

Which is rather a pity, because they, the needy, are the ones who might have insights into the dark underbelly of society, thoughts about places in the mind where we don’t ever want to go, and of life itself, that those of us who own dishwashers and lawns and Kobo readers and toilets, lack by necessity. Sure we try in some of our writing to convey the raw aspects of life on the fringe. The defeats as well as the triumphs. But let’s face it, if it comes to trying to get into the head of a character who really, really, doesn’t have a clue where he or she will sleep that night, where to get the money for a fix to keep him from going mad, it’s a stretch.

So how to get that across to the reader? Who wants to read about people like that in the first place? Who wants to read about ‘losers’?

Maybe not want, but should. Because it’s a facet of our society that needs to be told. Not only told. Understood. Empathized.

To be sure, much fine writing exists about marginalized people everywhere. On a local level, we are familiar with the topic from authors like our friend and founder of our critique group, Sean Slater, who works as a cop in Vancouver’s downtown Eastside, noted for its high incidence of poverty, drug use, sex trade, crime and violence. Canada’s worst.

Fine writing. Yet, it’s a tall order for any writer to speak from the point of view of its inhabitants, the disenfranchised, unless we’ve lived it ourselves. To tell about their feelings, their hopes and their fears, their longings, their struggle of existence on the streets one day at a time, their view of life itself. Now that would be a challenge for the next novel.

220px-Beats-of-the-southern-wild-movie-posterMaybe it won’t have a wide readership. Then again, who knows? Super heroes don’t always make for the most interesting reading. Think about the movie that got a lot of accolades at the Oscars, ‘Beasts of the Southern Wild’. In the hand of a skilled director (or yes, writer) if you push the right button, people will listen. And learn. And support change. Maybe. Unless they have to give up their dishwashers and lawns. And rain showers and French wines (I prefer New Zealand myself).

Good fiction entertains and transport us to different worlds for a while, as it should. As the author promised its readers. Great fiction does all of that, but more: it holds up a mirror and asks us questions that make us squirm. Questions that lure us to lift that rock to see what lives beneath. That makes us take risks discovering something we would rather not to see.

I am reading a novel like that right now. I wished I could write one like that. Maybe the next one.

For now, I am still writing my 5 Writers Challenge novel, a suspense story set in Vancouver and New York. Enjoying the process, and going slow and deliberate like a good tortoise should.

6 thoughts on “Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there.

    • Thanks, Joe. It would be my honour. Especially since I wrote it at two in the morning, with one eye, the other patched from my stupid accident. Try figure.

  1. Well said, Helga. I love what’s in your heart, and that in itself is one of the best reasons in the world to write. Your curiosity, empathy, sense of wonder and sense of justice are things that we all benefit from because you’re willing to share. Thanks!

    • Thanks, Silk. There is something satisfying when you can let it all loose in your writing on subjects you were taught not to talk about, like politics, sex and religion. And knowing it may annoy those who don’t agree, because they can’t shout back at you telling you that you are an idiot who should know better.

  2. “Clearly, not writing if you have a story to tell, is not an option.”
    I’ll take this as an authoritative diagnosis, and tell my wife that I can’t help it and am not amenable to rehabilitation. Eventually, she’ll come to terms with it. 😉

  3. Pingback: TheGaiaChronicles » Never make too many promises.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s