Falling Into Hugeness

Dear accidental reader,

be careful now: this is strictly for writers. It’s not called ‘Falling  Into Hugeness‘ for no reason and you need to pay special attention now to see if you want to go on reading it at all. Yes, now.

I repeat my warning: this is strictly for writers and writers only.

If you are not a writer, do not read beyond this line. Do not read further.

_______________________________ [this is the line I’ve been talking about all along. It really exists, you see, I wasn’t kidding. This is serious business.]

If you did read beyond this line anyway and are not a writer, you may need to revisit your livelihood.

Now consider this:

It may just be that by regarding yourself a writer you will enter a new dimension of being on this Earth that brings you happiness and fulfilment way beyond your wildest dreams.

An additional advantage of continuing your life’s journey as a writer is that you’re not stuck with your wildest dreams but you can write about them. Or you can write about people, call them characters, who have those dreams. Or you can write about characters who write about people having those dreams. As you can see, your mind can get pretty frazzled. That’s a risk you might want to take.

In any case, now that you’ve crossed the line, even if you let yourself off the hook by saying: “This guy tricked me into reading things I didn’t really need to hear or want to hear”, there’s no going back.

That’s the incredible beauty of this method. It’s life-altering if you like it or not. This wasn’t a story at all, you see, it was a magical potion.

Miraculously, it’s the same with anything that you write: it’s going to change the universe and the way things are after you wrote it.

Drop me a note from wherever you are, my friend. Let me know how you’re treating yourself. Whatever you do, illluminate the riddle.

[Published in Mark Reep’s wonderful, now defunct, Ramshackle Review issue 3. Wrote this after giving a whole lecture on coaching which is how I make part of my living. I must’ve been in a missionary mindset. The other bit of  background is an interview with Cynthia Ozick in the Paris Review from which I borrowed two marvelous expressions: “to illuminate the riddle” and “I was afraid of ever again falling into hugeness.” — A question that has always interested me: whom am I talking to when I write? This piece in particular was written in the small hours, I was tired, ill, fed up with everything but writing. I turned to my inner missionary for inspiration. Or perhaps I just felt like it. Yeah.]

© 2010 Marcus Speh. All rights reserved.

12 thoughts on “Falling Into Hugeness

  1. apparently not only “poking daydreams through a pen” (nicely put!) – but changing the entire universe, too. let’s up the stakes here, shall we? nobody likes dieting.

  2. Sort of like the butterfly falpping its wings in say, Germany, and the consequences felt across the pond in say, Baltimore.

    Writing is words. We all know the power of each word to help, to harm, to heal. So why not write huge? There is more to lose by writing timidly.

    What I love about writing is it’s recyclability. If a phrase doesn’t work, you can pitch it. No ozone. Provoking post, but I need coffee to fully digest. Peace…

  3. yes to that, linda – “why not write huge”, thank you for commenting and i hope that coffee got you into the zone where you could write…cheers!

  4. Right, I’ve spent all day thinking about this and here’s what I’ve come up with: Just like data isn’t information and information isn’t knowledge, so not all writing is huge.
    But sometimes, by a twist of brilliance and in the read, the hugeness comes along.
    There are some poems, short stories and novels without which my life would have been diminished. Close to zero that I actually wrote myself, note. I don’t know if at the time the authors thought they were being huge and life changing, maybe they were just having a cup of tea and emptying their minds onto paper, maybe these works were not their favourites, maybe not even close. But they became huge for at least one person (that’s me, keep up at the back). Sometimes I hope what I write will become universal, at least for one person, but on the other hand the responsibility is too much for me to bear and I close my eyes and say ‘la la la la la.’

    • hey, i’ve spent all day procrastinating successfully and i do not feel sorry for having distracted you because you’ve come up with good stuff. i like your apt comparison (data/information/knowledge). there’s a huge confession in there that i fully sign, all of me, with blood if necessary (but i think you’ll believe me anyway). the way you (yes you in the front row 😉 carry that self-inflicted burden is lovely, if i may say so. i’d like to hum along. i have already, actually, since many years. ‘la la la la la’, too, and a better title this would have been too. thanks, claire, much enjoyed your comment!

  5. Claire, what you say so resonates. I think the ‘hugest’ writing is often the quietest writing, the subtle truths trembling below the surface. la,la,la,la… peace…

  6. Hugeness has swallowed me whole. Not swallowed but swallered, it is the southern equivalent. I’m falling into the vastness of obsequiousness. Please send minions immediately. I should not have crossed your line. You bastard. Never write targeting me again. I am moving to Kentucky where I know you will not follow.

    • LMAO, michael. keep illuminatin’ yer old crow. i’ll see you over in bent country. thanks for the comment and the good curse.

Leave a Reply or a Comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s