Writers are the Learned Ones

The happiness of life lies in the fact that people show us love and affection. But it is quite amazing that all we see in the world is hate and deceit. Can one then justify the wrongs in our world in the face of emotional misconducts? This is an instance. For writers, many things inspire us.

Ranging from things that make us sad, happy, or simply make us surprised or amazed.

It will rather be difficult to tell which inspiration will win a writer an award. Must we wait until we suffer depression before we transfer them into lines? What makes your work rich as a writer is the research you carry out on your works. At first, what should concern you should be volume. Later you can now remove all irrelevances and make the work better in quality. If you are writing a historical novel, then you should make sure you have all the details about the war or history you are talking about. Where you are tested is the art you bring into play in your expressions line for line. In my view, writers are the learned ones not lawyers. This is because he delves into any area of learning to express what he has in mind. This makes him vast as he is exposed to a wide variety of experiences.

Although the writer is the unacknowledged ruler of the society, he suffers some depression in the course of his literary exercise. What makes a writer good is his ability to put himself in the mood of the situation. To feel what others feel. It is about what he says and what he does not say. The writer stands at the gap, between the finite and the infinite. His job is to convey what exists in the world of ideas to a world with limited language. This is what makes his job so tasking. But we whose minds are of the deities do not only discover, but we demystify nature. Devote your creative hours demystifying nature.

A friend embossed me after I read her a poem I wrote. She screamed: I want to be a poet.” I said to her: “do you want to feel the depression that we feel?” she didn’t say a word. The next thing I saw was a text message. She wrote me a poem. Jeez! I was so excited because as a poet, I have written people a lot of poems but no one has ever written me a poem. Them I sent her a text in reply: “since you have decided to become like one of us, I will grace your head with the fragrance of spikenard. But it bothers me that we will die one day. Even at death let the world inscribe on your tomb stones: ‘lay her among the lilies.’”