Writing is about building a fortress
- The Recluse
For me, writing is about building a fortress. Life in the world is inevitably affected by the surrounding environment, seven emotions and six desires. The Buddhist realm of "emptiness of the five aggregates" is still far away for me.
I have asked myself before, what is the meaning of freedom, what are people living for, how big is the universe, and whether the universe can think. I've asked myself even stranger questions than that. I also try to answer these questions, but I don't answer them to show how smart I am.
I clearly know that there are many philosophers who answer better than me. Push back, and there will definitely be answers that are closer to the truth. But I'm going to try to answer it anyway. Without him, just because I don't be lonely when I'm thinking. When I'm writing, I'm not bored.
I don't write for the love of writing, at least that's what I think. Although many times, my brother asked me, "What are you doing?"
I said, "I'm writing." He would say, "You're used to it." "Yes, I'm used to it.
It's like a person who drinks alcohol and feels bad if he doesn't drink for a day. If I don't write something for a long time, I feel sorry for myself.
But I asked myself, is there really so much to say? Is there really that much to write about? It seems to be true. You can write anything if you want.
Writing is building a fortress. Outside this fortress, inside the fortress, there will always be something missing. At least I have strong feelings. A table, a large bed, a few chairs, a TV, these are not enough. You also need several paintings, a woman, a mother, an audience, and so on. So you just keep writing, keep writing, and you know very well that you can't finish writing.
But the fortress will undoubtedly grow taller and richer. It keeps out external erosion, and it's also a symbol of how you show yourself.
Literature is like a mirror, we all use our own stories to reflect on others. I saw myself in the images of others. So when you read the text, you will cry, you will laugh, you will be afraid, and you will suddenly realize.
Sometimes I pick up the pen and it sloshes like running water. Sometimes I pick up a pen and I can't write a word for hours, and it feels like I have a difficult birth. Actually, it's intermittent, and I haven't written much. Sometimes I even feel like I don't know how to write at all. There will be a whole lot of punctuation mistakes.
I didn't study writing systematically. I feel like writing is building a fortress though. But we're not designers. And there won't be a special academy to train designers like writers.
Speaking of experience, I admit that it takes to write a long novel. Without systematic thinking and rich experience, it is difficult to become proficient in the use of language. The works that are written are also as tasteless as fresh water.
True writers, poets, must be born in a long period of writing. The academy of literary masters is always in life, always on the road to realization.
Silence made me start writing, but after writing, I became even more silent. In the process of building one's own fortress, it is inevitable that one will be lonely. So whatever we're doing, we're filling our own time. Instead of letting it slip away at will.
In that case, there was a sudden moment. You see a child, or an old man. Suddenly I realized that I was going to get old, and I was about to go into the ground. But I didn't do anything! "If the young man doesn't work hard, the boss will be sad" is probably such an emotion.
Writing is building a fortress. Some forts will become famous buildings that people look up to. It has become a harbor for many people's souls and a home for their souls. Even if the writer dies, he remains in his fortress. And the people who came in, and talked all night long. There is no end to writing in the world, and this is something we should all be thankful for.
Every industry, every person who is building their own fortress. We are all looking at each other, and I am closely connected, but we are also independent as individuals. Wind and rain are not our common pain, but our common pleasure.
Excerpt from the essay works of an independent scholar writer and a famous teacher of Chinese studies.