You read that right. Good writing sometimes sings, but it always stings. In addition to being a bad pun, that’s a reminder that we can’t forget to take risks in our writing. In fact, if we aren’t taking risks as writers, we might as well just stop.
Heck, sometimes we even have to take risks with new technologies like Gabcast, where you can hear me talking more about writing that takes risks. (I also share another great parable from Annie Dillard.)
Just this week, I was talking to a Texas real estate Czar and we got to talking about vulnerability. Vulnerability requires a strong, supportive community, he said. And by vulnerability he seemed to mean accountability. And by community he seemed to mean something like a bible study accountability group.
But I knew what he was talking about.
Perhaps that explains why these blogging groups seem to be starting up. We all put ourselves out there for our readers—if we ever find any. Assuming we do, we’re unlikely to hear from them in response to specific print publications. I suppose some writers get fan mail, but that could hardly constitute the community support that would justify my vulnerability as a writer.
Blogging is such a gift. We can write an article and receive nearly instant feedback from people we trust. We can be vulnerable because we can trust our community and the rules of the blogosphere. Quality matters, but so does quanitity and honesty and community.
At the same time as we risk vulnerability within the supportive community of the blogosphere, we also have the potential to reach the traditional readers as well. They don’t comment as often, but we see the ghost of their presence in our google analytic numbers and the unusual referral addresses and sometimes surprising inbound links.
In a lot of ways blogging is just a return to the manuscript publication that was so popular prior to the printing press revolution several hundred years ago.
Shakespeare was one of the first Englishmen to allow his works to be published widely. Sir Philip Sidney, arguably a hero of Shakespeare’s, insisted on publishing via manuscript. His sonnet sequence was passed around among friends in a sort of social, aristocratic unplugged blog for the 16th century.
When Shakespeare published his work and sold it to the masses, it was perceived by some to be a kind of prostitution. How could he dare share something so intimate with people he didn’t even know? Of course, he was just a player. Let him strut his hour upon the stage. His words may be full of sound and fury, but they signify nothing.
And, of course, they were all wrong. Shakespeare’s words signified a lot more than nothing. Words full of sound and fury always signify something.
Letting others hear your sound and fury is risky. But without risk, without sacrifice, I’m not sure we signify much.
Note: the embedded audio player from Gabcast sometimes does weird things in firefox. I’m still trying to figure out how to fix that, but I haven’t yet.
Gabcast! Good Word Editing #2 - Not Sure What To Write About? Make Sure It Stings.
If you’re looking for a subject to write about, it’s time to take some risks. Annie Dillard writes a parable about exactly this in her book The Writing Life.






6 comments ↓
I wonder if there is such a thing as writing that doesn’t take risks. What I mean is, no matter what we write, someone’s going to say something about it. That right there is threatening. Risky. What if it destroys what we think about ourselves? Risky, risky.
Very thought provoking!
I agree with LL as well - everytime we write, we are taking the “risk” everytime we “expose” our writing to readers. We run the risk that someone will think it’s subpar or disagree with the content.
Properly viewed, that can be a very good thing for us - it keeps us humble.
Per my last comment- when I comment hastily, I run the risk of putting down a string of words masquerading as a sentence.
Sorry about that, Mr. Editor.
Andre, you make me laugh. I don’t worry about grammatical correctness in blog comments. In fact, I don’t worry about prescriptive grammar at all. For me grammar is a tool for rhetoric. That’s all. Sometimes I want sentences to read like I’m too excited to punctuate them. If the reader isn’t slowed down or confused, I’m not sure it matters.
L.L. you’re right of course. You always are. Writing is just risky. That’s why I’ve been in a funk lately. Too much to do, too much to risk, too little time, too few resources.
Can I quote you? You know, like in the next domestic “discussion” over here on the East Coast? (the part about always being right)
You can quote me. But I have no authority whatsoever.