Much
of material for this post is paraphrased from pages 95-99 in Stephen King’s book ON WRITING: A MEMOIR OF THE CRAFT.
Writing is telepathy!
The
writer does not even have to be in the same room as the reader for the
telepathy to occur.
I could
write a story while sitting at my antique desk, next to the window overlooking
my garden, at my home in Nampa. Then I could then mail those written words to
you. At which point, you could recline in your favorite chair at your house and
read those written words. That’s when you would receive my transmitted message.
Telepathy.
If
I’ve mastered the craft of writing, I can transfer images from my mind to your
mind.
We
don’t have to be in the same place or even the same time period. I could have
written those words years ago. You could read them today. And the telepathy would
still happen.
Let’s
give it a try. Right here. Right now.
You
pretend that you’re in your favorite receiving location – your recliner, your
bed, or your hammock; and I’ll type from my favorite transmitting
location – my desk next to my window. Here we go …
This
is what I see in my mind:
I
walk down a narrow hallway to a kitchen at the back of the house. Sunshine
streams through the sliding glass doors, brightening the entire room. A crimson
cotton tablecloth drapes over a round kitchen table, and on top of that table
sits a tall, wire bird cage. At the bottom of the cage is a fluffy, white
rabbit. Its pink nose twitches as it munches away on a stub of a carrot. On the
rabbit’s back, clearly marked in blue ink, is the number 8. The rabbit pauses
for a moment, completely motionless, but then just as suddenly, he begins
chomping on his carrot again.
Transmission
complete.
Did
we see the same thing? Of course there will be variations. Color blind
receivers probably saw a dark gray tablecloth instead of a red one. Some decorative
souls may have added a scalloped edge along the tablecloth. When it comes to
the bird cage, I’m certain there were more variations, because I only gave you
a rough description of the cage. The alternative would have been to give you
exact measurements such as 41 inches tall with a circumference of 26 inches.
And that would have been more like an instruction manual than a narrative.
So
while some of you may have seen a three foot tall cage and others saw a five
foot tall cage, the point is, you saw a cage with a rabbit at the bottom of it.
Which
brings us to the important part of this telepathy exercise ... while there
may have been variations with the details of the transmission … one thing
should have been perfectly clear in your mind: the blue number 8 on the back of
the rabbit. And even more important than the blue 8 is the question that I
transmitted to your mind without using any words at all. The question I planted
was: Why is there a blue number 8 on the back of that carrot munching rabbit?
If that question did not cross your mind, either I’ve not mastered the art of
transmitting or you’ve not mastered the art of receiving. In which case, one of
us did not take this seriously.
In
order for writing to work like telepathy, the writer must master the art.
Stephen King says regarding writing, “If you can take it seriously, we can do
business. If you can’t or won’t, it’s time for you to … do something else.”
(page 98)
A writer must transmit a clear picture to the mind of the reader.
These two people do not have to be in the same room or even the same time
period for this to work. It is not magic or accidental. Writing is a form of
telepathy, but only if the writer takes the craft seriously and masters it.
