The Writer

There is a man who sits, staring at his keyboard. His fingers don't move. His chair does not rotate. The drink to his left does not tremble. The fluid is not imbibed. He does not look from his screen. There is a window, but he doesn't look through it. He doesn't adjust his lamp. He doesn't move his feet. His neck does not change alignment. His eyes do not blink. His mouth does not open. His nose does not sneeze. His breath does not hasten. He does not write.

There are no others like him. He doesn't know his purpose. He doesn't know his reason for being. He doesn't move. He doesn't talk. He doesn't sing. He sits. He stares. He thinks. Without knowing it, he sustains certain small but essential cosmic processes. His thoughts proceed as follows:

I need to write. But what? What should it be? Who will read it? What can I say? To whom should I speak? Should it be long, or short? Should it be beautiful, or sad? Should it be full of passion, or joy? Should it touch on the ancient mysteries? Should it enliven with humour? Should I include myself as a character? Will I omit description? Maybe I should write a poem? Does anyone read poetry anymore? What if I am boring? What if no one will read it? What if only I read it? What if others read it but find it loathsome? What if I provoke hatred or enmity? What if someone else writes something better? What if I am pre-empted by someone with the same idea? What if I die on the way to the publisher, or even worse,before I have finished? What if I am arrested for saying something obscene? What if I cannot speak my truest voice? What is my voice, anyway? What is my point? What am I trying to do? Who I am trying to persuade? What is the use of writing? What if I lose my thread? What if my inspiration runs dry? What if I am not a writer? Am I deluding myself? Why am I so sure I need to write? Perhaps I could do something else. But what? Maybe I should write out some ideas. That will surely help. What ideas? What can I say? Should I write about the weather? Should I write about the sky? Should I write about politics? Should I write fiction or non-fiction? Should I tell a story? About what? What is a story, anyway? How should I start? How should it end? Maybe if I have a single point to make, the rest will follow. What point should I make? Should I entreat people to do good? Should I defy the morality of the day? Should I promote sexual liberation? Should I invoke conservative mores? Should I be witty? Should I be elegant? Should I be stately? Should I be crass? Maybe I should write with an accent. Or perhaps I should have all my characters be women. How does one write for women? Should I write in the first-person? Or maybe stream of consciousness. Should I be artistic? Should I be inventive? Should I stick to the classical format of the novel? Should I use Jungian archetypes? Perhaps I should reference Freud. Maybe I should turn to mythology. Which myths? Perhaps Nordic? Greek? Hindu? Egyptian? Perhaps I should write about science. Maybe set everything in the future? Or I could write about the past. What about a counter-historical novel? Or historical fiction? Or a dialogue with an ancient philosopher? Maybe I should try to paint a picturesque scene? What if I told a love story? Maybe I'm over thinking things. How should I simplify my process? What if I start with just a couple sentences. Yes, surely that's all I need. But what if they go nowhere? And what should they be, in any case? Should I start with an epithet? A poetic doublet? Maybe a quotation from someone famous? Who would be appropriate? I really should know the whole storyline before deciding. Perhaps I should plan out a short story. I wonder how long it should be? A page and a half? Too short. Maybe twenty pages? That seems more like a novella. Should I write a novella? Maybe a short novel? How intricate should it be? Should I have one character or an ensemble cast? If I write a short story, the action should focus on a single event. But what event? Is that even true? Isn't an event just a composition of other, smaller events? How many levels of depth does a story need? Am I trying to be good? What is good writing, anyway? How do I even know if what I'll write is adequate? Should I write it all in one sitting and then refine things? Or maybe I'll tinker with each sentence as I go. I wish I knew what I wanted to say. I should write about truth. Or maybe beauty. Or love. Or passion. I should write about heartbreak. I should write about youth struggling to mature. I should write about the oppressed minorities. I should work in puzzles somehow. Or mystery. Or intrigue. I shouldn't be too arrogant or self-assured. I want to emphasize my intelligence, but I don't want to appear condescending. What if I come across as pretentious? I should refrain from using too many large words. But what if I get bored? Aren't large words the marrow of writing? Maybe I should write like Hemingway. Or maybe Faulkner. Or maybe I should write a play. I should invent a world for my story. But what if I spend all my time inventing and never get around to writing? What if I never finish? What if I keep going and forget what I wanted to say? What if the world ends? What if there's a military coup and writers are rounded up? Maybe I should stop worrying. Should writing be easy? Shouldn't it be natural? I should write like the Beat poets. I should do some free-writing, to warm up. All I need to do is put down a few thoughts, to get my ideas flowing. But what would I say? It feels strange to write without a purpose. Should I try to adapt it afterwards into something else? What if I wrote a haiku? Those are short and easy. But it's impossible to write them as well as Basho. They always seem trite by comparison. I don't want to sound like a cheap mimic. I really just need momentum. Once I get started I am sure everything will flow. But what am I trying to say? When will I know I've finished? I want to be a writer, but I feel like I am not a writer until I begin. But if I'm not a writer, how can I bring myself to write? How can I start without knowing how it will end? What's the point, anyway? They say writers are not men of action. Is writing active? Will I accomplish something if I write half a story? Will people read through my notebooks later on and collect my unfinished work into loving manuscripts? Will I be cherished for everything I tried to do? Will my words be savored? Will I be famous in my own lifetime? Will I be remembered? Will I be studied in classrooms? If so, will I be taught in elementary schools or in university? Which would be preferable? Should I write to be understood? Or would obscurity better ensure my longevity? Why am I so concerned with success? Am I afraid of failure? Am I afraid of succeeding? What is the difference? Is it possible for a writer to love his own work? Can I love the process as much as the product? Do I need inspiration? What inspires me, anyway? Perhaps it is the love of minute details. I should observe the natural world very closely. Or perhaps I should study interpersonal dynamics, and get a sense of how people interact. Good writers are both intelligent and perceptive. I need to cultivate both of these faculties. I want to be able to grip my readers from the first word. How should I do that? Should I begin with something brilliant? My first line should be very memorable. But what makes something memorable? I could try to be verbose, but I'd probably just end up being purple. What if I were terse? Then I might run the risk of insulting my readers. I want to be sincere. I want to be authentic. I need to find my inner voice. How is this done? Who am I, really? What is it that I want to say? What do I really believe in? Should I confirm what people already know in their hearts? Or should I defy their expectations and try to show them something new? Is it even possible to write anything new? What's the point, if it isn't? Do I want to simply rehash the same finite plot lines again and again? The same rote themes? What use is it? But what else could I do if I wasn't trying to write? Surely, I have an affinity for words. It would be a waste not to use them. Do I have an obligation to the universe to write? Am I free or a slave to this desire? Did I choose to be a writer, or did my desires choose for me? Let's say I did write something; what then? Would I give it away? What if I'm not satisfied by the response? What if I don't receive any praise for it? Was it a waste of time? Maybe I should meditate. If I were more present then I could just write for its own sake. I wouldn't have to complicate the work with any secondary desires. But if I don't have any desires, then would I even want to write? Why do I want to write in the first place? Am I trying to impress someone? Maybe I'm trying to impress myself. Is this the only way I know of being real? Do I want to prove something? Do I want to create something? Do I want to offer beauty to the world? Or maybe I want to show people ugliness. Is it my own ugliness, in that case? Do I want to write out of spite? Maybe I am just bitter, and writing is an act of revenge. But what I am bitter about? Maybe I'm bitter about not being able to write. Would writing purge me of that feeling? Or would it just accentuate it? Maybe I want to be loved. Maybe the only way I think I can be loved is through writing. But even assuming people love my writing, will they then love me? Maybe I should just write love poetry. Or is that too cheesy? I could write song lyrics. People love music. I could write for musicians. I could be a great lyricist. But who writes lyrics without also making music? I should stop thinking so much. I really need to just write. But how?

Still, he sits. Still, he thinks. And never do his fingers move. And may we thank him his undying service to us all.