Writing needs time to complete, and your readers need time to read. That’s a fact. Yet, time is one of the resources modern people complain to be running out of daily. Our most precious resouce, our life. That is why, I surmise, visual arts have apparently conquered the world. Apparently, yes. In spite of their seeming supremacy over the written word, if you write true, you can still win people’s hearts. And heal your own. Writing is a powerful means, in several senses.
Writing as therapy
As a child, I used to write down my dreams. Writing helped me understand them better and, with time, understand myself. Curiously, I even got keys to the reasons for some of my actions, which led to forgiveness of foolish or reckless deeds. Those were my first steps on a life-long process, that of accepting who I am. The dawn of my love for myself.
Now, love is the greatest healer there is. If you can get to it through writing, okay, then writing is a healing means. Write yourself, and you are on the way to redemption. At least you are willing to become better. This results in more peace of mind. Hence, clearer thoughts and wiser decisions for yourself and the others.
Don’t get me wrong. You don’t necessarily have to put to paper your dreams. Nor do you have to put to paper your life. No matter what story you write, these are still there. Unconsciously, you’re still writing yourself.
Writing as infamy
Let’s say you’re relating a real event in your life, or writing a story inspired by one. Any way you look at it, writing any story reflects your perspective. Although no perspective can ever be wrong, perspectives are just tiny pieces of an infinite whole, and we, humans, cannot see anything infinite. Diversity is our only graspable limit.
While writing, the temptation to feel all-powerful is always there. All the more so when you create fictitious characters and play them as you wish, as you will, or as your imagination strikes you. The more you play the creator, the closer you get to inner beliefs, to symbols and essences, to unspeakable truths. The feeling of power tempts you higher and higher up toward some sort of immaterial pedestal on which you envisage yourself playing God.
All the great artists have played this powerful game, and people have looked up at them in awe. I have always wondered whether perchance being a great artist means attempting to usurp God’s throne. From this humble perspective, can writing be seen as a case of infamy?
My answer tends to be no, as God, in His infinite wisdom, gave us a free will and the freedom to play. I am sure God forgives all our sins, as dangerously close to infamy as they might be.