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!