Brains and Books

 You know what really fascinates me sometimes? The human mind-and I don't mean the brain. I mean, I know a little how the brain goes about its business, with synapses and electrical signals, blood flow and so on and so forth, but how does the same organ forget something so easily? Or in certain cases, so conveniently? 

I know people who can quote entire sections of books but can't remember the last thing they had for a meal. Then there are people who live in denial or choose to ignore something just because they want to. There doesn't even have to be a specific reason-they've just forgotten it, so to speak. 

The best examples of such people can be found in academic circles, from what little I know. It's not that they can't remember something; they've just got better things to remember or do. Einstein never really gave much thought to his appearance because he was too focussed on his work; I don't know how true that is, but it's a pretty good anecdote. It's one of those anecdotes you can whip out anytime, anywhere and people will like it. 

It's not just that they'll like it, people will think you're a pretty good storyteller too, without you having to do any real work. Now that's what you call two for the price of one-Walmart or Big Bazaar have been ripping off this concept since they started. Thank me later. 

Books-now that's another thing I've been meaning to write about. How is it that authors write? I mean, many of them say that it's fulfilling. Some say that it's a passion. Some find the process enjoyable. Some people, like Stephen King, say that one should write because it makes them happy. What goes on inside an author's mind is beyond the understanding of lesser mortals like you and I; how they stick to writing day in and day out is an even bigger mystery.

I think Roald Dahl was being really honest in this respect. Although better known as a children's author, his stories have a certain macabre edge which is just inimitable. The humour, too, is of a type barely found elsewhere. He had said that when compared to other jobs, the life of a writer was an absolute hell. No fixed hours, no guaranteed salary or paycheck, no saying when or how they'll get a lucky break-it does sound hellish. 

It took me a long time, but I think I understand just a bit of it now. There's a lot of freedom associated with writing, which not everyone is able to handle. And I don't mean putting words on a screen or a piece of paper just for the sake of it, no. I mean actually writing-penning down thoughts, incidents, ideas and more. 

It's not enough to just arrange a bunch of random words on a page so they make some sense-they can make sense without conveying anything to a reader. That's where being an actual writer comes in, I believe. Being able to make someone see a place they've only read about, or experience an emotion they never knew existed-that's what writing is. 

That is where the fun begins. You have all the freedom in the world to write about something, to make someone do something you would never have done in your wildest dreams-but you don't do it. Why? The answer is simple, albeit cliched. You're scared of all that freedom, of all that power. You have the power to offend and the power to appease, something which has always eluded your grasp prior to this.

Books are fun to read, there's no doubt about it. Those who don't read just haven't found the right book to start with, that's all. It's writing a book that's always difficult, but that's only natural. After all, it's a process-one which begins in a brain but never ends while another brain knows or reads about it. I suppose that's enough for now. Let's call it a day, shall we? Adios!