Someone told me recently that there are nearly a million unpublished manuscripts in London alone. That’s a hell of a lot of un-read words. Perhaps one of the problems with writing these days is that it’s almost too easy. Computers make it all too simple to type, cut, paste and delete massive blocks of text without perhaps giving it due consideration. Computers also make it very easy to present a manuscript in a professional way, therefore giving you the impression that the work is of a good standard.
A theatre director said to me once “the problem with word processing is that it kids you into thinking your stuff is good”. I know what he means. Words today are often written quickly, read even quicker and discarded before they’ve really had any effect. The number of newspapers on offer, the mountains of ‘celebrity literature’ hitting the shelves and the constant bombardment of advertising copy have meant that words, much like water, have become something we take completely for granted. But written language is a wonderful thing that has taken civilisation thousands of years to perfect. We should enjoy the fact that we are living now, at a time when we can reap the benefits of centuries of development in education, technology and thought. We should also be using mediums such as the internet to spread the gift of written language, and not forget that there are still countless numbers of people for whom it is still out of reach.
Education is a gift, waste it at you peril. Write something. Sit down and start writing a stream of consciousness, anything. When you get home tonight, open your word processor or take out your notepad and just start to write something. So what if yours becomes one of those countless unread works. It’s a nice thought that one day something you wrote might be discovered by a descendant, or a friend that is sorting through your things. Keep a diary, or just write a brief autobiography. You’ll be amazed at how therapeutic it can be.
Oh and a word of warning – back your stuff up. My computer crashed recently and I lost several pieces of work for good. All I had to do was email them to myself and I would have a record, but unfortunately I never did. Well, unfortunate for me anyway!
Monday, 21 January 2008
The Value Of The Unpublished Word
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3 comments:
Agree with both these sentiments, but are they contradictory? On the one hand, too much unexpurgated 'stuff' and on the other, a call to 'just write'. If the problem is that people who share your love of language are hidebound by concern that their efforts will not be up to snuff (& "Rien s'empeche comme le papier vide") I can only recommend that they try blogging. A friend once quoted back to me... "don't get it right get it written", and the confidence/habit generated by mini-blog posts helps enormously in breaking this mental logjam.
I did actually think to myself after posting this item that I had neglected to mention blogging as a platform. It does, as you say, plug the gap between the unpublished and the published work, a format for someone who is keen to write but perhaps doesn't have the time (or the publishing contract!) to do it professionally. But in a wider context blogging is journal-writing by another name, the main difference being that you are conscious of a readership. Perhaps what I (and the millions of other bloggers) am writing is complete unexpurgated nonsense, but when much of the stuff appearing in print these days can only be described in these terms, why not dream the dream that what we're writing might actually have some kind of influence (a kind of literary chaos theory!).
At a Burns Night supper this weekend I found myself talking to a publisher of children's books. I asked how they deal with the volume of hopeful manuscripts and she replied, with a glint in her eye, "you can tell in the first few sentances". Ah well, one step back in the confidence stakes and back to the blog for daily practice at opening gambits!
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