No writer is an island
I experience two contradictory forces in my daily life. One is the desire to retreat. Withdrawal from the world, at first glance, appears ideal for writing. Silence and solitude give opportunity to reflect and create, free from the interruption of others. As an introvert, a further benefit of withdrawl is that it recharges my batteries. At this season of life, within the busyness and noise of work and family, I need to be intentional about scheduling time to retreat. After a week of interaction with others, I try to keep Fridays free of appointments. This allows me to spend time alone, to study and write and recharge.
The competing force at work in me is the desire to be involved in the world. The apostle Paul wrote that, ‘Christ’s love controls us. Since we believe Christ died for all, we also believe that we have all died to our old life. He died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live for themselves. Instead they will live for Christ who died and was raised for them.’ (2 Corinthians 5:14–15). Christ’s love compels me to be involved in the world, to love the people of the world and to look for opportunities to share the good news of His forgiveness and new life. Yet this involvement in the world is also crucial to my development as a writer. We learn to write in the context of relationships: listening to others and observing human behaviour.
We are made for relationship, and community is not only good for the health of our souls, but also our writing. In the past week, I emailed the first couple of chapters to a writer for feedback. When they sent their reply, I became aware of the glaring mistakes and omissions on the page. Yet in the glow of writing alone, I had failed to see them. ‘As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another’ (Proverbs 27:17) resonates in the field of writing in addition to life as a whole. The benefit of studying creative writing is wider than the instruction I have received. It has introduced me to a community of writers. I have learnt from their insights and had the opportunity to contribute my own. It is also encouraging to communicate with others who share the same passion for language and story. Without the balancing effect of others, a writer may vascillate between two extremes: delusions of grandeur and crushing self-criticism.
Readers are also part of a writer’s community. DuFresne makes an intriguing comment about this:
‘The making of the story is partly the achievement of the reader. If the fiction is good, no two readers can be said to have read the same story. A visual image depicted on a screen is virtually the same for all who see it, but an image sketched on a page will be seen slightly differently by each reader.’ (The lie that tells the truth, p 136).
This is why actors who star in movies inspired by novels may look quite different from what we imagined while reading. The director may emphasise a different theme or tone than the one which struck a chord in us. We all interpret a work in different ways, depending on our life experience and emotional state while reading it. As a reader, you shape the story.
