Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Thursday, October 28, 2010

"Don't tell me the moon is shining, show me the glint of light on broken glass."

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I believe the opposite.
A word is not static. Just one word can have hundreds of definitions and countless more connotations. A single word is loaded with sights, smells, emotions and can, in just an instance, invoke a thousand pictures.


Euphoria



Read a word within a sentence and it develops a context and an agenda. It is not there inadvertently but deliberately and meticulously handpicked to express a viewpoint, to exact a certain emotion, or, conversely, to spark your own, specifically personal response.  Even words that alone stand innocent and powerless in the pages of dictionary, when harnessed in the perfect phrase, have the power to shoot straight at your heart or etch the corners of your lips into a knowing smile. To me, there is something delightful about reading those delicious phrases that transport you immediately to a specific moment, those magic combinations of words that simply ooze and glisten with exquisiteness. “Don’t tell me the moon is shining,” Anton Chekhov once said, “show me the glint of light on broken glass.” I would kill to write like that.
When you read a great novel, or a short story, or a poem, you are not simply reading words from a page, but you are becoming part of an entirely interactive process of consuming and giving life to verbs, adjectives and nouns. Words are not constrained to their physical presence on paper, but leap into the complex inner workings of your mind and mingle with your experiences, emotions, hopes and dreams to inspire images and emotions. A sentence is like a new colouring book which each person shades uniquely. Some will render it gradually while others fill it in with block primary colours or stray haphazardly over the lines. The final product is a reflection of the reader's age, mood and interpretation. Your response to a piece of writing is a reflection of your own viewpoint, and yet, simultaneously what we read constantly reinforces or remoulds our perceptions of the world around us. No sentence will ever hold exactly the same meaning to any two people. So frequently I have been a participant in debates sparked by a completely different interpretation of just a few words. Never does the reader play a passive role vis-a-vis the writer but a true writer is one who inspires the artist in the reader to colour the words with the most vibrant crayons or waterpaint them with tears. The reader brings words to life and the words change (even if only minimally or subconsciously) the life of the reader.
As I child I would frequently disappear into the forts I built of flimsy sheets and sturdy imagination to rapaciously devour page after page of Enid Blyton, becoming completely enthralled in the fantastical world of The Faraway Tree for hours at a time. I would imagine myself feasting on Pop-Biscuits with Moon-face and sliding gleefully down the ‘slippery-slip’ in the centre of the Faraway tree itself.  The rhododendron in our back garden was transformed into a pirate ship, raucously teething with swarthy buccaneers on unruly seas and the hollow tree stump in our orchard became a treacherous and mysterious  smugglers’ cave from The Famous Five. In those days I wanted not Barbie dolls, computer games, or television: I had novels and a place in the countryside to let my imagination run wild.  Occasionally I would envy the children who would go home from school to sit in front of Nickelodeon, but I now know that an almost outright ban of television was the greatest gift my parents could have ever given me.
Today, I firmly believe that children are missing out on so much due to an overexposure to television. This is not to undermine photography, visual art and cinema which can be undeniably thought-provoking, intelligent and interactive, but to say, that too many children’s programmes are engineered to provide the opportunity for unimaginative and uncritical consumption. Rather than being a catalyst for our imagination they provide entirely pre-constructed settings and characters which allow us to watch passively and emptily. While some programmes are informative and valuable, I believe that no amount of government funded educational television can ever be equal to the immeasurable benefits of reading. The written word is one of the greatest sources of magic we have in this world and it is a tragedy for the world to turn away from it.
Instead of absently flicking on the tv today’s modern family could do with stopping and picking up a good book. Some of my earliest and most precious childhood memories were of reading, or being read to. And today I can still be moved to tears by Hans Christen Anderson's The Little Match Girl, or Oscar Wilde's The Happy Prince. A picture may tell a thousand words, but the power of the right words is infinite.


Writing, I think, is not apart from living.  Writing is a kind of double living.  The writer experiences everything twice.  Once in reality and once in that mirror which waits always before or behind.  ~Catherine Drinker Bowen, Atlantic, December 1957
A word is not the same with one writer as with another.  One tears it from his guts.  The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.”  ~Charles Peguy
"What I like in a good author is not what he says, but what he whispers.  ~Logan Pearsall Smith, "All Trivia," Afterthoughts, 1931
"The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight."  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson


Thursday, October 14, 2010

"Superior" media and the joys of good journalism



A lecturer from our university once asked the class what sort of news media they read. When an unsuspecting student replied "Stuff," he was subsequently humiliated as though having stooped to the absolute lows of media degeneracy. While this was a pretentious question, and I by no means want to detract from http://www.stuff.co.nz/- because it fulfills a purpose of providing concise and easily accessible information on current events- we could all benefit from discovering the wonders of good quality print journalism (thus I suggest you should probably stop reading this right now).

I certainly do not profess to be any expert in the matter- my current exposure to esteemed news sources stretches little further than a daily browse through the New York Times website. But it is a wonderful and refreshing experience to read articles that are eloquently written, well-informed and look into the issues that are so frequently brushed over in our "if it bleeds, it leads" popular media culture. This is not to say that these accounts are always completely unbiased, as journalism is always targeted at an audience and, no matter how hard they try, in my opinion no one can ever write about salient issues objectively. Even a non-partisan observer has a viewpoint of some kind, and by attempting to present moral or political neutrality we are still subconsciously influenced by our agendas to some extent.

I have wanted to be a journalist for as long as I can remember. As a twelve year old I dreamed of jet-setting around the world to be there at the places where history was being made, in order to report them to the world, and, by writing them down, playing just a small part in solidifying them in human memory, for better or worse. While the power that journalism has to change things in a world that  (myself included) has so many times indifferently turned away from atrocities in the Balkans, or sat on our comfortable couches shocked at the abhorrence of genocide in Rwanda, is another moral conundrum in itself, we should at least not be allowed to plead ignorance.


So I will not distract anyone from reading decent journalistic material with my far inferior rant any longer, but will leave you with Bill Kovach and Tom Rosenstiel's nine elements of journalism, and some of my favourite articles from the New York Times today- they are very thought-provoking.

  1. Journalism's first obligation is to the truth.
  2. Its first loyalty is to the citizens.
  3. Its essence is discipline of verification.
  4. Its practitioners must maintain an independence from those they cover.
  5. It must serve as an independent monitor of power.
  6. It must provide a forum for public criticism and compromise.
  7. It must strive to make the significant interesting, and relevant.
  8. It must keep the news comprehensive and proportional.
  9. Its practitioners must be allowed to exercise their personal conscience.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/17/magazine/17Aging-t.html?hp


http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/15/world/americas/15copiapo.html?hp


Also, just to be completely pretentious, how cool would it be to sit in a Manhattan cafe in the early morning with an americano and a copy of the New York Times?

Monday, October 4, 2010

This blogging business

Recently my darling friend Anna has introduced me to this wonderful world of images, blogs, and general internet loveliness. http://weheartit.com/ is just one source of inspiring little photos and quotes, that, ironically leave me glued to my computer screen, rather than getting out and pursuing that boundless, honest and love-filled life that they all extol. Blogging seems to offer an anonymous vent for teenage angst, teenage girls embroiled in stories of unrequited love, and, to some extent, even an alternative reality. You see their photos of idyllic, sepia-toned loving, edited with little love quotes, and wonder if these are just the product of adolescent melodrama.
But, at the same time, every now and again, one will tweak on a heart-string, and, let's be honest, none of us are immune to the pangs of love, life and the occasional roller-coaster of emotions.


So, utter hypocrite that I am, I am here adding to the plethora of emotional outpouring that has proliferated throughout the world wide web. Quite probably, as have all my attempts at writing diaries in the past, my enthusiasm will fritter away, until just a couple of posts get lost somewhere in the vast expanse of cyber space, a forgotten url that may be stumbled upon by someone, somewhere, sometime. Most likely, this 'blogging thing' will turn into yet another exercise in procrastination- from assignments or various other more rewarding tasks.


What I find particularly interesting, is that, the internet simultaneously offers a contradictory sense of anonymity and recognition. When you write to your blog, there's an overwhelming sense that, because you're writing to no one in particular, you can write anything at all. The constricting bounds of conversational appropriateness are lost, and you can share thoughts, emotions and fears because you know that anyone could be reading them, or perhaps rather, no one at all. At the same time, the internet age is a time when we all need to be vigilant. A blog is like a diary that we can't try and hide, can't avoid being read. Details of drunken debauchery can always be uncovered by a google search by a potential employer and intimate revelations can be exposed to the entire world.We all engage in the odd casual facebook stalk, and as much as we love to emphasise the word 'casual', it's always with some sort of agenda- to find out who's got fat or pregnant since high school, to find out whether the girl who's been posting on your boyfriend's page really is competition... You know the drill.


So I'll end my rant here, but I hope this blog of mine comes to some use.  Most certainly it will never amount to anything short of a favourite quote bringing a smile to someone's day, or providing some sort of therapeutic relief when my life turns tumultous. Indeed, I read just the other day, in regards to blogging, "never before have so many written so much, to so few."