I’ve re-typed this sentence about seven times now.
The number seven is significant in the Christian bible.
That second sentence may have irked you. It could turn you away, draw you in, or have little impact on whether you’ll decide to continue reading. And whatever I write next will do the same. It’s endless. Even when you choose to stop reading- it will continue.
I know what I want to say, but I can’t get it to read right. I want you to think what I’m thinking and feel what I’m feeling. But you can’t, because you’re not me. You’ve experienced this world differently. Ponder that.
I want to say that writers are pretty awesome people. But at the same time, I want to create a segway from boosting your ego into the topic of this post. But the flow just isn’t there. It isn’t me. My voice keeps changing. So I guess I should just keep writing like I’m trying to talk to you.
Ugh. It’s difficult to focus on this one thing. My thoughts jump all over. Maybe if I start writing about something else, the explanation will come along.
This sentence used to say “Let’s talk about the weather.” But I deleted it. I re-wrote this. Did you know that? You couldn’t have known, unless you read my first draft of this post.
But that’s impossible. Because I didn’t revise this. Would you believe that I didn’t revise this blog post? What? Do you think I have time to write AND re-write things for you? Pssh. Believe it or not, I did.
Goodness, I’m getting quite off-topic again. Writing this as ‘Colleen’ just isn’t jiving. I’m not good at writing as ‘me.’ I think I’ll write as thirty-five year old man.
What if I told you that I am 5″10′ tall? Would you believe me? It’s probably not important. And maybe you’d keep reading- in hopes that Colleen would get to her point soon so you could go back to perusing cat photos and .gifs of women cooking meals. Oh sorry, was that sexist? It wasn’t meant to be. Or, was it? Maybe she wrote it to get a reaction. Maybe she didn’t even realize it at the time and the idea that it could possibly cause a problem came later. But who is writing? None of you have met me, afterall. I’m just a figment of Colleen’s imagination. You don’t know what color my eyes are or how many children I have. Only Colleen knows that. And you won’t, unless she chooses to delve out the information.
Reguardless, readers interpret things in their own way. Writers interpret things in their own way. And I’m fairly certain that the only beings on this planet who can read are humans. And humans are pretty unique. So that allows a huge mix of reactions to what you write.
Alas! Colleen has made it to her point. I’m going to skedaddle.
Writers, you have one of the coolest gifts. You have this fantastic ability to not only CREATE a world with your stories, but you have power over your readers. Just look at what happened when John Green killed Augustus Waters. And who is still mourning over the mess J.K. Rowling made with that last book? There are so many people talking about what they think should have happened in those stories. There are so many people who have been inspired by what has been written.
It’s difficult to explain the impact of something such as writing. To explain something within the means of its’ own matter, is so intricate that it is redundant. FLASHBACK to second grade when your teacher asked you to define “gravity” and you stared at her, dumbstruck. “Uh. It’s what makes us not float into the sky? It makes us heavy?”
I have a lot of perspectives. I even have various perspectives on the word ‘perspective.’ The ability to reign in more than one of these is pretty awesome. And we do this with our characters, we do this with our plot, and we do this by writing what we don’t know. (See Darby’s Post for more on that). We do this by writing what we do know, what we want to learn more about, what we want to teach someone, etc. The list is infinite. (I can thank Stephen Chbosky for implanting that word in my mind).
I don’t even know where I’m going with this anymore. Maybe I should just delete it all. Then you’d never be able to read any of this. But would the absense affect you more than my jumble? Or are you so confused now that you’re filled with questions?