Writing seems to be ebullient even while narrating the continuum of depreciating existence. The type of energy writing survives on seems to be of an unearthly nature. As a writer, I feel, there is a narrow labyrinthine scope allowed for a piece of creative narrative to witness the other end of the deliberate maze.
All that the maze is composed of are — criticisms, rejections, premature conjectures, cultural conformities, lack of perspectives, creative apathy, confinement by language, and mere parochialism. It is a miracle that writing survives the strain of all these aspects to narrate the story it carries. It is amazing, how a piece of writing protects the story like a mother; embracing with the utmost care, against perpetual scepticism of the world.
The constitution of creativity must be essentially robust to survive the acrimony. A world so conveniently comes together to vehemently push away the stories of human consciousness, love, triumph, and honest criticisms. While common consciousness holds a very cliched idea about creative honesty, it can sway any moment, according to the frivolous whims of social appropriation.
A writer must be resilient, self-motivated, and creatively convincing to journey through the bunch of oppositions. A creative piece can be disparaged easily (citing even the most callous reasons) by those who conveniently pluck out few words and form a morsel with shameful conclusions. The hunger of dimwits can be satiated by those violent outbursts which lack intellectual value.
It is shocking to see intellectualism is considered an elitist privilege and common sense a useless ideology. All through the ages, intellectualism has survived despite the volumes of words spent on protests and sincere effort to erode their existence. An exceptional philosophy is reflected through shards of strewn perspectives will barely reflect the truth. There is a desire to shove intellectualism through a barrel to the deepest layers of this planet, or even better if they could be entirely erased.
Meaningful communications are rare! There is a sense of fear to clarify doubts because the art of asking meaningful questions is somewhat in jeopardy. The propensity to criticise or ignore a narrative due to its nature of creative clarity is quite common. More is being discussed about writing, but less is being spoken about the craft, the ideologies it should carry, and the writer’s lifelong struggle. Imprudent accusations against a storytelling effort are common; the stories still seem to have reached the eager listeners, and who genuinely read them to narrate them to the future generations.
Writing is not a rare craft anymore, but there still lingers that sense of scepticism about the scope it will provide. With an uncomfortable relationship with the language, it becomes difficult to innovate and express in a sincerely creative way. After all, the pen is eager, ink is willing to flow. Seek inspiration!