You say grace before meals. All right.
But I say grace before the concert and the opera,
and grace before the play and pantomime,
and grace before I open a book,
and grace before sketching, painting, swimming,
fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing
and grace before I dip the pen in the ink.
~G.K. Chesterton
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Books and writing expand my soul. Despite this I find myself trying to justify the time I spend on them, especially fiction. Emotionally I feel that what I read and write is of value, it's the logical argument I struggle with. Could my time be better spent folding laundry or visiting the needy?
This morning as I laid in bed at 4:30 am between Baby, who was recovering from a nightmare, and DH, who is recovering from a horrid cold, I found an answer that soothed my intellect a bit. (Although I was operating on 5 hours sleep, so who knows how logical it really is.) Writing is the development of concepts. The concepts are the skeleton, ideas that fit together to make a framework. Words put flesh on the skeleton. Muscles could be the plot and character development. While the skin could be the story itself - every single little word immaculately crafted. Without any of these aspects the written work is lacking.
Inside the flesh and bones of this creature, the written work, are organs which enable life - brains, heart, intestines, etc. These organs are the writer, hidden deep in the work. Without the writer - his or her heart, brain, intestinal fortitude, digestion of facts, and translation of thought into words with the tongue - the work doesn't exist, there would be no life in the flesh and bone.
Without flesh the skeleton can't operate, there is no interaction. I've never seen a mass of flesh without a skeleton but I can imagine that it would be disconcerting. Similar to the feeling I get when I read a book to it's conclusion only to be befuddled by it's lack of concept. Reading a story which has solid concepts at it's base but the author failed to pay enough attention to the finalizing details is like seeing a person without their skin - it's a person alright, but I'm not about to invite them over.
Writing is not just putting words on a page. Reading is not just looking at those words. There is development, thought, insight, inspiration, and more, more, more. There is value in reading and writing, fiction or non-fiction. Although I am reluctant to assign a great deal of personal value to some writing (I won't be specific because I don't want to offend ),there is a great deal of modern writing that doesn't have a skeleton. It is hard for me to invest in that type of writing. And giving my time to writing or reading is an investment. Although I do occasionally hang out with books with no skin, as beauty is more than skin deep, after all.
So the trick is finding and writing a whole creature - bones, flesh, and organs. Figuring this out is a step in the right direction for me... it'll be interesting to watch my work with words unfold. "Life is like a box of chocolates, you just never know what you're gonna get."
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And because I can't ever feel finished with my "Thanks For..." posts I'll end with this-
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