To write is to figure things out. To ramble along through the consortium of thoughts in one’s head until, eventually, some truth is found. It is an exercise in patience and exploration. It involves following a line of thought with only feign hope that it will lead to something worthwhile. Bumping against the walls, making mistakes, turning around at dead ends, until that little shimmer of a gem, the truth, can be seen. And that little glimmer, for the briefest of moments, it makes the whole journey worth it. At least it does for the writer. The reader, on the other hand, does not care about a slight shimmer in the dark, no matter how clear the coordinates. They want something they can see in the comfort of their own home. They want the truth unearthed and polished and presented on a platter. They are interested entirely in the finished product. They will leave it to the writer to extract and share, which, though far more agonizing than the initial quest, is of great benefit to the writer.
It is through the exercise of extraction and polishing that the writer becomes better and better acquainted with that which they are seeking to bring forth. They learn the curves and edges, the size and shape, everything about it until, when the finished product is finally ready, they have no need for it. The reader can have the souvenir, the book, the poem, the quote; the writer has made it a part of themselves.
scott ironmonger 