For Whom do I Write

My blog is over a decade old and it has followers from around the globe. During this period I have received many messages from complete strangers, mostly expressing gratitude for the  happiness they find within my prose. Some also vehemently critical opposing my views. And some falling in love with the writer and perhaps not so much with his words. My articles have also been published both online and in print in numerous journals, magazines, newspapers, travel columns around the world. And these too have reached out to thousands of readers, nearly all unknown to me. And they too have written to me.

I enjoy reading them all but I enjoy the most when someone asks me a question and not merely words of praise or disappointment. My writing topics pretty much encompass all spheres of life including its failings and also its risings. Therefore I guess I have a large spectrum of readership. From young to old and everything in between. The youngest message I have ever received was from an 8 year old British girl and my oldest reader going by the messages I have received was from a 92 year old Japanese Haiku author. Today I am going to address the question from the 8 year old girl.

Firstly let me tell you how did this girl know about me. It appears (as she narrated in her email since I had no recollection) I had met her mother and 12 year old brother during their trek to Everest Base Camp and apparently I had walked with them for one entire day. And the mother had carried her impressions of that day back. Thereafter they all had found me online and this girl started reading my blog. Her message to me was rather simple and going by its content it didn’t seem that my so called prolific words have had any significant affect upon her intellect. She already knew what life was all about and to her I was just another guy having a jolly good time, just like her. But she did end with a very thoughtful question. She asked, when I write whom do I write to? Who is my intended reader? And she explained further, supposing that I would be puzzled with her question, how do I know who would read my posts and articles. Smart girl she was for sure.

 I knew the answer to that question very well, yet I pondered before I replied to her. To whom do I write to? For whom do I write?

 Or for that matter, anything that I do, not only writing, but climbing, traveling, pondering, dreaming, loving, etc for whom do I do a thing, anything! Do I do it for a particular individual or for anyone who happen to come along? Or I just do it for the vast emptiness of the universal consciousness where I just throw out the words and my energies randomly without any purpose at all. Hence I don’t do a thing for anyone. I just do it. Why do I do it then?

 The answer is simple. I write every word of mine, and every action whatsoever it may be, I do it just for one person. And that individual is I, myself. I write because I love writing, shrouding and offering my words in a beautiful way that can affect a reader, even if only I am that reader. Besides everything that I have ever published there are many writings of mine that doesn’t go beyond my eyes or even my mind. I create stories pretty much each day and most of the times I do not put them to paper or in a word document. They come and go just like my thoughts and ideas.

 I started writing the day I realized that I had a natural gift of putting words in a manner that is appealing to read. Though at times my grammar might be a bit askew… as has often been pointed out by my readers from the United States and England. And I also realized when I wrote my first fictional story perhaps at the age of 8 or 10 that while writing I could relive the life of my characters and this offered me an amazing escape route from the life that I was living otherwise. And therein lies my reason to write fiction. I could become whatever or whoever I wished to be when I am writing. I could be the world’s wealthiest if I wanted to be or the wisest, the most charming and attractive. I could become a Victoria’s Secret supermodel or the head of a state. I could become a parent, a loving spouse or a serial killer or a super spy way better than Mr. Bond.

 I could go anywhere, even into the outer space. I could dive deep inside the ocean play with the whales and sharks or ride a lion or elephant. Within my mind there were absolutely no boundaries or limitations to what my characters could do or who they could be and since a writer is also each one of his creation, I am transformed every time I create a character, write a conversation, or describe a place. At the center of it all as well at its outermost periphery it simply is me that I am writing to and writing for.

 I don’t deny that I love it when I get admiring messages from my readers, especially if my words had some profound effect in their lives and they changed for the better. Yet if no one ever read what I write, be it a post, a story or an article, fact or fiction, it wouldn’t really matter to me since I am always reading what I write and this is a self-fulfilling action. To put my thoughts into words and then reading them back to me and smiling or frowning at how they affect my being and intellect.

 I will conclude with the reply that I wrote to this little girl. This is a factual reconstruction though not verbatim reproduction since I don’t have that email. I have tried to recall to the best of my abilities what I wrote then and added to how I would have replied if such a question was thrown at me now.

 Dear Amy,

 Thank you for a thoughtful question. I have never been asked this question before hence I took a while before replying back. What do you think is the purpose of writing? Is it to improve your own writing skills, and grasp of the language? Or is it intended to be read by another person. If you write an exam then it is to get grades and of course it is meant for the examiner to read. When you write an article for a publication it is meant to be read by the readers and perhaps your aim was to get some remuneration in return. When you simply write in your personal diary then it is only meant for your eyes. So apparently it seems that we do write for an intended reader. Just like a speaker speaks for an intended audience. Now among all the readers of your writing, there is only person who is the common reader. No matter where you write, when you write or what you write; that one person is always the reader. Even if you write a grocery list, that person is the reader. And that person is you, Amy.

 So I write for me, always and forever. The intended reader is myself. If other readers come along then it is very good, but the primary reason for me to write is to write for and to myself. Can we judge what we write or speak? Can we say if what we wrote is good or utter nonsense. I guess it’s like asking a mother if her child is good. Because to every mother her child is the finest in the world. But the question is do we write to be judged or is judging what we write necessary. I often write and then promptly forget what I wrote, even destroying the paper upon which I wrote or permanently deleting the word document. For me writing is an act of having a conversation within myself. A way of seeing the world from both points of views of that of the actor and the observer. Hence in my writing, I am the writer as well as the reader. I don’t write to please or upset someone. I do not write to impose my opinions or ideas onto anyone else. If that happens then that is an additional outcome, not really my intent or desire. Just like the sun that shines irrespective of if anyone is basking under its warmth or not. Just like the mountain top covered in snow. The snow isn’t there because someone will see it and appreciate its beauty or would want to climb and touch it. The snow is there because it is cold and the moisture has turned to ice.

 I guess your teachers and your parents have taught you to write for a purpose and for someone; perhaps to please. Yet I would ask you to write one day only for yourself. Open up your heart and just write whatever comes to you. Don’t bother if it will be good or bad, if someone will like it or hate it. Just write, let your thoughts come out through your words. Just be the snow upon the mountain top.

I wish you my very best. With love, your friend

 Satya