Finding just the right words can seem impossible when sitting in front of a blank page. I wonder how Hemingway did it, and on a friggin' typewriter no less.
Still, I yearn to put together timeless, perfect words. Eloquence that will fly like an arrow in the precise arc necessary to unify the heartbeats of an audience.
Words that will keep an audience riveted precisely long enough to feel a particular emotion or understand a specific point of view.
Finding those words will be, for me, the peak of artistic success. It is the point, way far away on the horizon, toward which I row with mild optimism.
Of course, commercial success, which usually requires talented writing as a base, would also be nice... but whether a work stands the test of time often depends on how much money is spent to make it visible, as well as on the timing of promotional efforts.
Even if these things happen just right, the effectiveness of words on a page can get muddled by layers of context and subtext, not to mention by interpretive choices made by an actor, director, or editor.
Writing that transcends all of these factors is what I hope to put forth in the world, even though a consensus of opinion about its merits might not occur until well after I'm gone.
I believe that whatever ultimately happens is bigger than me - that the end result of artistic efforts is unknowable by anyone - and so the joy I get from the creative process, from taking artistic risks, is the only payoff I should expect.
If a typhoon comes, I'm screwed. But I do have oars. And making it across the ocean is only possible if I keep rowing.
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