A blogalectic

Masha had this to say about meaning, and art, and intention:

To write without agenda, I suppose the vision must be to share the goodness first and foremost, leaving the news to be discovered by those willing to dig for it, to open our ears to the whisperings of God, of winter nights, of bitter old women and laughing girls, and then to write them all without fear they might upset our little world.

I think that’s beautiful. But it doesn’t work quite like that for me. At least, not anymore. I don’t think of the literary arts as being in any way connect to an agenda, any sort of agenda. They are their own thing.

I know what I want to say, vaguely, when I sit down to write something. But not in specific words, because if I could say it in, say, a blog post, well then I should write a blog post instead of a story. A story is its own word. I might know how it works, and I certainly think we have a responsibility to learn how to let a story speak clearly. But the story isn’t necessarily connected with any outside goodness or ideal or belief. It’s just itself. It just is.

So Masha gives us the words of Oscar Wilde:

God and other artists are always a little obscure.


One thought on “obscura

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s