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| Faulkner in Paris 1925 by WC Odiorne |
I never know what I think about
something until I read what I’ve written on it. These humble words of American
writer William Faulkner resound with the depth and sensitivity of his novel and
short story writing.
It made me wonder, is it because their thoughts are only clarified in
writing, that writers feel compelled to write. Maybe that’s why many writers
are not good at self-promotion and talking up their novels on promo tours. You
need the gift of the gab to be an effective salesperson; do writers have the
gift of the written word instead.
When I first read Faulkner’s, The
Sound and the Fury, I remember closing the last page and thinking, wow, how
did he do that. It was one of those profoundly moving novels that imprint
themselves on the psyche; long after you’ve forgotten the plot details, you remember
that moment of revelation; this writer is different to everyone I have read
before. I think it inspired me in many ways to want to be a writer myself.
The novel is about the Compson family in a fictional southern county of
the USA and is told from four different perspectives, each equally convincing.
Faulkner’s ability to feel and then relate events from different points of view
marked him as a future Nobel in Literature winner. It also indicated a lack of
ego, something useful in a writer, but not so useful on a publicity tour.
Though having said that, I have met many successful writers with massive egos.
Faulkner also advised to write from the heart about things that matter,
like Shakespeare did. That’s why the universal truths in Shakespeare’s plays
still resonate. That search for significance and meaning in existence takes
time to construct.
As writers weave ideas from heart and mind to the page, shape-shifting thoughts
into sentences, rewinding passages and playing them over again, their thoughts
eventually clarify and what they really think emerges.
Writers
seek more than an instant opinion which is all too often told by an idiot, full
of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
