Why he writes. A short Passage.
Years ago when he was a vicious child he found himself in between struggle. Struggle; not as big as any matter of life or death, not of any kind where he performed a slavish labor, it was a simplistic struggle; a common struggle to be precise.
His struggle was of his survival during the rumbles and shouting of his own father and his own mother. This was his struggle and to escape sometimes he covered his ear with a bulk of blanket that lied on his bed or sometimes picked up a pencil and write melodious, at least what he thought to be melodious; poems.
This is how he began writing. Today he writes for one of the largest and biggest operating newspaper. He reports news, sheds opinions, defines truth, and sometimes when he is occupied with free space; he just jots down few words, unrelated to happenings of the world, but related to problems of human heart.
Why write? Sometimes he questions himself. Why write? Why cry out loud in a piece of useless paper which one day people will use to cover things up, pack things up, and sometimes even to step on, or to stand a glass of water or whiskey. His this question was not a recent one. He had been asking himself this question since he enrolled in the college of humanities.
How a writer changes the world? He argued upon. He is no king with a throne, a prime minister with a chair, or terrorist with a gun. He is an ordinary man, many times ordinary looking man, who is only holding a pen with limited ink.
Pen never is mightier than sword. Pen has its own existent. Pen can be bought for a dollar and can be written with hours, days and even years; but when the ink is flushed off, it dies. Memories of it remain on the sheets of papers. This was his view of pen.
Why write? He had not answer that question yet. It still lingered on his thoughts.
One day, his first day, in literature 101, he was being told. ?Tommorrow,? professor said it loud, ?one of you might be another Wordsworth, Barrie, or noble laurate Faulkner. One of you will write to change the world, change the human heart.?
Two things on that short statement caught his attention. Laurate and Human Heart. Laurate, he got passionate about becoming one. Ladies and Gentlement, the nobel prize of literature goes to him for writing on emotions of human heart and changing the world; he dreamt of it. But as soon as he came alive he thought, becoming a laureate was impossible and other he thought, changing the world was far out this pen?s reach, which was only filled with limited ink.
Why write? He still wandered.
He had tried of enrolling in physics. This was where he was certain he could change the world. Einstein, he remembered. Many people may not be familiar with Kant, Russell, Shaw, but Einstein everyone knows. Is the reason he changed the world for certain? He fought with his own mind, and he designed the universe. So is being a scientist greater than a writer? Doesn?t a write fight with his own words too, his own mind, writing down what he observes?
There! He exclaimed. I resolved it. Why am I writer?
Because I am human, he said. I live where symbols no longer exist. ?Gods are dead,? as he read on Disgrace written by Cutzee. He also found the fact why Einstein was credited to be greater than Kant and so forth, because he investigated the fact and answered very question human had on them. Like, why is sky blue? He also could be called a writer of some sort, can he not? Scientists are also writers, writers of formulas, aren?t they? Like Einstein, he gave relieved hundreds of human. Yet, he said, his formulas weren?t truth.
To be a human and a writer has a close resemblance. In conflicting place, with ideas and opinions, human cannot state any fixed truth. So he only observes. This observation gives him light, the insights of human heart, jealously, love, hate, betrayal and many more complicated subjects. He learns so much with observation. Then he uses method of language to express them, to make him self feel secure and give something back to the world. He is then a writer. To be free from struggle, to not answer or investigate, but to see thru human heart, and sometimes doing it so, he changes the world by making plays, creating formulas, or writing a novel.
Pen might run out the limited ink, but ideas exist, giving birth to new and more complicated ideas. This answer satisfies him
