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Warm Strangers: The Friendship Between Writers and Readers

I think of creative people as hermits.  We go off to a room or some other remote location and  spend a few hours repeating the same repetition and hope that we can somehow achieve masterpieces or the best words we can if we are more realistic.

The first human contact we have after we click publish or send is when a reader comes along and reads our work, we jump up and down because that is one more person that didn’t read it before. Someone took some time to actually read work from an unknown writer.

A writer forms friendships with people whom they have never met by marking our stories, dreams,  and desires on paper or a computer screen and this process shows us as at our most vulnerable.  It sets up an intimacy only the Writer and Reader know.

In the old days when I started writing I hide myself as a writer.  I convinced myself that my words weren’t good or I would be embarrassed when someone would see then berate them.  These insecurities don’t disappear and sometimes I wonder if they might still happen.  The only good lesson I learned about this is the fact that I’m not alone. Like any relationship the work may be rejected and the writer may be left heartbroken from the evaluation but if the writer chose not to send the pages out in the world they would grow old and dusty on the shelf,  never to be seen by the world, never fulfilling their purpose.

The truth is not writing is a far worse fate.  The reader never sees the possibilities locked inside the human head and the heart.  The writer doesn’t learn about people whether or not they are actual or fictional characters and the reader never sees the fruits of that labor. 

People who write join a community of human beings who see reality as what it can be, might be,  or ought to be, instead of what it is. Writers are an interesting group of people. Every writer is a hiding show-off.  We love words and their magic.  Everyday we see blank pages and decide words should be on them. We hope the world will become a more fantastical place because our words exist– even if it is only for today.

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Posted by on May 4, 2015 in Life, Writing

 

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