chinwei - keep on writing

as indicated by the title, this is my response to the 'keep on writing' assignment. it is boldly incoherent and some parts of it suspiciously resemble those conversations i have with my Other Voices, therefore you might not actually want to read this. i hope ms ng doesn't actually plow through every single piece on this blog and end up reading this. okay ms ng if you're reading this kindly do not get pissed with the fact that i am pissed with the fact that i have to write this. thankyou.

(insert heart since blogger mysteriously refuses to let me put the heart emocon here) teesh

A CONTEMPLATION ON THE WRITTEN WORD AND THE SUBLIME ART OF WRITING

I am supposed to be writing about writing. Using writing to support writing, by the way, is a circular argument. According to Munchausen’s Trilemma, circular arguments are a denial of truth. Therefore my essay will be a denial of truth. That shouldn’t matter, though, because there is no absolute truth anyway.

Thus it is that I discard all metaphysical notions and attempt to deliver a compelling diatribe on the abovementioned title. That is, this piece is not actually a ‘Contemplation on the Written Word and the Sublime Art of Writing’, but will be about a ‘Contemplation on the Written Word and the Sublime Art of Writing’. It is an essay not of that title, but on that subject. If, by any chance, you don’t get the difference, don’t go on. Think about it and understand it before you read any further or else all I’m writing here might just be more futile than it already is.

You might, no you must, have heard much hyperbolic praise for the written word and the sublime art of writing. These go along the lines of ‘writing is man’s greatest achievement’, essentially in an attempt to point out how uniquely integral writing is to the human race. This it might just be but, if you could possibly bear to peel these profound lines from your head for a bit, kindly consider what I have to say.

Wholesale transfer of notions, perceptions and ideas is not known to be possible as long as the human mind is involved, and communication among man is made possible by one man creating his idea and another man getting an idea of this creation. This longwinded and therefore rather twisty process called communication does a lot to make ideas volatile and dangerously tractable, but it is in this malleability that expression derives all its subtlety and meaning.

Having spouted so much I do hope you get what I mean to say about writing. Writing is a form of expression and communication. So in this sense, yes, writing is a sublime art. If you were wondering about the other part of the title, the bit about the ‘written word’, the written word is a form in which writing exists – an ever-evolving but nonetheless grounded medium of expression.

In case you have not adequately grasped my meaning in the previous paragraphs, I will repeat that writing is a form of expression and communication. As such, it is to be respected and regarded as the sublime art which I would like to believe it is. However, it is a necessary evil that writing and the written word goes to serve less noble purposes.

Let me elaborate by a remotely metacognitive means. Think about at this piece of work – the question and requirements, not this essay itself. Think, also, about ‘creative’ writing assignments. If writing is about sharing ideas, why are we made to write if we have no ideas? Sure, we end up having ideas, but I would like to suggest that these notions are contrived and extruded like noodles through a die – longwinded, dense and nondescript though remotely tasty for a bit.

Let me elaborate more, this time a little more pettily. The written word and writing, a supreme art, is used to commit unwelcome acts such as reminding you that ‘Memoirs of a Madman’ is due today when you’ve just begun on it, or informing you that you have been sued for defamation. It also exists as a means by which you can be demanded to write a totally irrational essay on the pros and cons of minority representation or some other political rubbish.

As a writer and as a human being, I find that rather regrettable. But it is one of the ironies of life. Now, this denial of truth is arriving at its long-awaited end. After all that I’ve said, perhaps you can do a little inferring on what I meant when I said this piece will not be of that subject mentioned, but on that subject. Write as I may, understanding cannot be substituted.