A Writer’s Quandary
In today’s world, it’s all about emotion; feeling—we say
what we think and lay it out in plain view—for public consumption—it’s all at
our fingertips (or toe tips) as they say.
We continuously feed off other’s views, and, yes, even beliefs,
subsequently morphing and adopting them as our own. Some, though, are reticent, not wanting (or
willing) to give the world a window into their disguised soul. Recently, through other’s critiques of my
writings I discovered I am one of these individuals, and consequently, wondered
why.
One of my favorite pastimes is the study of American History. I guess why I love it so much is because the
reader (or viewer) has to sort through words alone to glimpse the writer’s intent
on a given matter, but rarely feelings, like a stoic puzzle waiting to be fit
together. Even in more recent personal history,
for instance, most of my grandparent’s generation maintained an emotional
distance. Personal matters close to the heart
were off the radar, emotional ones even more so. They, in their infinite wisdom, managed to go
through life happy, for all intense purposes.
I’m rambling, I know.
Please forgive me! My question is
this: how do writers meld the old and the new, reveal the very sacred and yet
not divulge themselves to the outside world?
I welcome all comments or suggestions!
