Wednesday, April 11, 2012

What True Writing Should Be

For many a night have I asked of the moon: when will we learn the meaning of true literature?
Those who create foolish script should be struck down by the strong and worthy writings. If they are not, the fire of Literature will be forever fed with nothing but the sickly supple chips from the Shaffer tree, which will never produce anything to rival the blaze of true writing.
Such a small flame never causes much change, but the fire made from the wood of the mature oak will brush everything that draws near it, dancing over it and leaving trails, memories of warmth and light that could never be forgotten.
Strong wood will keep the flame dancing for a long time, but we instead of learning to overcome the difficulties of growing the mighty oak, we only learn how to grow a small, fragile tree suitable only for essay and educational writing. And we can only watch as it waits to be crushed with the tiniest gust of wind, and leaves our memory for good.
Great writers like Shakespeare never had to dirty his writing with integrating commentary with quotes, so why must we? Why not lay the foundation of creativity, adventures, and how one guides readers through the wonders of space and time? Why do we not teach the style of those great books we enjoy?
The problem is literature must flow freely from the mind and be arranged on paper much like rain falls from the sky to collect in ponds and puddles so it fits in with everything else. If one attempts to cast it into something it is not, it will forever remain dull and pale like concrete. So, it is something one cannot teach, but instead one must look at themselves closely to find where they can lay their creativity to better match the landscape inside of them, because there’s no use in copying anyone else. Emotion, emotion one knows and feels, must flow through the lines and even trickle between the letters so it can better seal its meaning, or else it will crumble before you bring it to the fire.
Without feeling and anguish, there is nothing but black letters muddling a pure page of possibility. My thought is: Use it wisely, and do not forget your glue gun.


It was for an assignment. We were suppose to try and use voice, which is never too hard for a writer :]

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