I was an animal rights activist in high school, and the very first article I wrote — for publication in our inter-high school newspaper — was a fiery piece about vegetarianism. A few weeks later, a girl from my school told me that after she read my article, she became a vegetarian! I was amazed that something I had written had persuaded a person to change her life. I decided to become a journalist on the spot!
Flash forward 17 years, and I’m working on a cover story on women in prison in Canada for Vancouver’s Georgia Straight. I am strongly against prisons for women, and I have deluded myself into believing that my one article will have the power to close Canada’s prisons for women forever! After its publication, I am shocked to hear that both sides of the debate — the prison rights activists and the prison administration — liked the article. While this may have demonstrated a balance in the piece, in my eyes, it had certainly not met with success!
Somewhere chronologically between these two events, I’m 30 years old and dating a guy way too young for me (read: 22, and trust me, a huge age difference for that decade!). I write him a silly love poem for Valentine’s Day that he adores. But his interpretation of the piece is radically different than my intended one. I explain this to him, yet he is undeterred. “It’s my poem, now,” he tells me, emphatically “I can interpret it any way I like!”
I initially resist this truth, then realize he is right.
Once we release our writing — which can feel like pieces of our heart — into the world, it does not belong to us exclusively anymore, but to the universe. It becomes its own “person”. It forms part of the minds and hearts of its readers, and it is subject to their interpretation.
The most personal way in which I have experienced this was after the publication of my first book of poetry. Once the book entered the public domain, I no longer had any control over it, how it was interpreted — or what it chose to do in the world.
On the plus side, I began to think of it as a sort of emissary. It made its way to book clubs; touched the heart of a future client; won an indie book award; and worked on my behalf as it supported me in my quest to facilitate workshops, be nominated for another award and generally reach out into the world of art.
In her diary, Anne Frank expresses serious doubt that anyone could ever be interested in reading it. She had no idea of the glory that was coming: that her work would comprise one of the most well-read books of the 20th century.
We don’t know the impact that our writing will have on the world. To believe in our writing is to believe in ourselves and our dreams, in the potential of our words to inspire, heal and empower.
Photo credit Brandon-Morgan, Unsplash