Write or Wrong

If people know what is right, I believe that most people will do what is right. The question, then, is: what is right? I’m not asking about ethical or religious right; I’m asking what is right for writing.

            After many years of writing, reading, and teaching writing, I’ve come up with a few answers. And most of these answers are in response to students’ questions, often questions expressing frustration, about why their writing isn’t “right.” I am offering my answers not because they are correct, but because they guide my own writing and my teaching.

           Is writing “right”? This is a tough questions since what is “right” is not clear. If you mean “Is writing true?” then the answer is “No.” Good writing is convincing, not necessarily true. To ask if writing is true is to misunderstand the nature of writing. For such a question begs this one: for whom is it true? If it is true for the writer, that is not important because we don’t write for the writer, we write for the reader. How could the writing be true for the reader? The reader only knows what the writer writes. For it to be true for the reader, it must be convincing. It must seem true. And if it seems true, then it is true (for the reader).  Look, for instance, at Dwayne Sammons’ story in Voices Electric “Are You Chicken?” Is this a true story? How do you know? You don’t know Dwayne. You don’t know if this is his real name. It’s true to you if you believe it to be true. And you believe it to be true because the details and the structure of the story convince you that it is true. [And, by the way, I know Dwayne. I know from talking with him that this is a true story. If you don’t believe me, then you would have to come to Ashland, preferably to the Ashland YMCA where he works, and we could ask to see the scar left by the operation. But perhaps that scar is from a different operation? You see, truth is almost impossible to determine. So why bother with truth? Stick with convincing the reader and let truth take care of itself.

            If someone knows what I mean, then why isn’t that enough? “Well, you know what I mean” is a statement that I’ve heard often enough to know that it expresses something important to the writer. But, again, this statement illustrates a misunderstanding of the writing process. The fact that the writer knows what the writer knows and believes that the reader must know is not important. What is important is that the reader knows, not vaguely knows but exactly knows. It is the writer’s responsibility to get this message to the reader; it is not the reader’s responsibility to have to guess what the writer means.

            Is writing about expression? Not primarily. Primarily writing is about communication. And, more specifically, writing is about communication with ghosts. By ghosts I mean the readers. Since readers are not present to the writer when the writer writes, then they don’t necessarily exist. If they were present, then why would the writer just talk to the reader, who then would not be a reader but would be a listener? And if the writer was misunderstood, the listener would ask questions. But readers cannot ask questions; therefore, the writer must anticipate questions. And for this reason, writing demands structure that the reader anticipates, structure that has proven itself over hundreds of years to work to overcome this inherent problem with writing: the writer communicates with ghosts.

Finally, though it should be the first thing to discuss, a message about CONTEXT. [This is important!]

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