The Reader's Dilemma

Why We Write & Why You Read

The question of why we write has been perennially existent in my mind. Over the last 5 years, I’ve asked this to myself multiple times, usually in times of mental vulnerability. The question presents itself in multiple ways, at times as a sign of exhaustion, or at times as a sign of introspection. Writing is a weird activity, or rather an obsession, one whose returns are rather very difficult to quantify.

Writing is a way of unification. the epitome of this craft is the unification of the writer and the reader. When you write, the hope is that the reader becomes part of your struggles, your successes, your nostalgia; your grief, and your gratitude. This being said writing is not a way of creating aspiration. This is a common point of conflict when we talk about writing. Writing is not a craft of the exceptional. It is this conception that makes one mistake the earlier said idea of unification with that of aspiration.

Writing is a craft of depicting the mundane and the exotic with equal skill, in a way that the stranger in the reader gets lost in your world for the duration of the words. The stranger attempts to think like you, feel like you, and for a brief moment reorients his/her worldview to match the readers. At the pinnacle of this unification, the stranger becomes one with the author that he himself tries his hand at this craft. He tries to piece together his world on paper, imitating what he earlier read, and later getting lost in his own way of solving the puzzle.

This however seems a rather romantic depiction of writing. This unifying power of writing however comes at great costs. It has the power to spur people to rise in rage and set out for battle for whatever the author seems right. This does seem like an extreme end, but one must not forget that this exists; that all writing is not daffodils and nightingales.

In more civil scenarios, the goal at times can be to find a sense of company in his pursuits dreams, and experiences. It is sometimes euphoric, when the content may be so. This end goal of unification is one that is at times rather selfish, and perhaps borderline sadistic. Take for instance the writer who writes something about the battles in his mind as he inhales an anesthetic in a cold operating room displaying his anatomy on a huge screen. Or the writer drones on about the depressing shows and the little pills that keep him going at times. Take, for instance, a writer who weaves his craft around his struggles.

It isn’t easy for the reader to experience the horrors of the writer. The writer goes through it once, but his devoted reader goes through it until the novelty wears off. The skill of the writer it may seem would be in keeping the novelty alive for as long as he humanely can. Perhaps now you understand why the craft might be sadistic and selfish.

I’ve wondered why we as readers go through this. For the writer, it might be the incessant need for companionship, or to share for once the battles he wages every day about the many things everyone takes for granted. Why the reader goes through this I’ve never understood much. I wonder if it is a remote sense of empathy we have, or perhaps it is this little hope that on the far chance that this depressing soul has a day of happiness, we get to be unified in the sunshine as well.