On Writing as Communication and Artistic Expression
Last night at book club I mentioned a blog post I am writing: on writing as communication and artistic expression. My day job (paid job) is editing, which gives me access to learning about the writing processes of many authors. While writing is my primary artistic medium, I have found deep satisfaction in calligraphy (dabbling) and painting. I am also fascinated by the fact that some books evoke such diverse responses among readers that the relationship between a writer’s intention and the response must be considered. Essentially, I am sorting pieces of my thought process in writing (procrastinating) my second novel!
What is the goal of writing?
Through my work as a writer, with the goal of effective communication, I explore the relationship between intention and impact. As a medium of expression, I think that the essence of writing is communication. Example: While AI is used as a “writing tool” or replacement (a slippery scale), the technology itself does not communicate or create. It rearranges and regurgitates. ChatGPT says that the essence of writing is the act of turning inner experience into shared meaning. Its answer sounds meaningful on some level. But the challenge I interpret is this: AI is not human and therefore has no intention. So, while the words it regenerates have some form of impact, the starting point is lacking. There is no voice. Why am I referencing AI here? The comparison highlights the uniquely human aspect of intention. And that is worth discussing with other humans. And as a reader, I crave real connection (no offence, Siri).
Artistically speaking, I often find myself painting when I should be writing up a storm. While I try to limit the number of “shoulds” I drop in my personal life, as a writer, “should” keeps me tied to my hopes of finishing my second novel, “Say There’s a Way, Mewslings,” before the end of 2026. It could happen! That said, writing of any form tethers me to my computer.
A common goal among artists is to express something: feelings, opinions, visions, observations, concerns. And, lately, I find that talking about painting grounds my artistic pursuits into shareable thoughts. Artists have many techniques at their disposal, mediums which shape how an intended message lands in different contexts. What makes a painting effective? How does an artist communicate with their audience? How can we determine if their goal is successful? Expression is communicated through chosen mediums and techniques. And one of the greatest tools that an author has is their reflection.
Balancing filters and transparency and the role of reflection
The creative process necessarily involves producing something new, presenting the same information in another way, or sharing the same information in a different arena. Creation is endless, which is why we keep retelling the same stories for new audiences. We have much to say about tropes, spin-offs, sequels, and prequels, with varying opinions. As a writer, do I write down only my own opinions, dictated by the protagonist? The answer should be no. Do I include grocery store conversations in the dialogue of my characters? Most definitely. Stories offer mini glimpses into someone’s reality and view of reality. AI is not capable of this type of communication or connection, the capability of being human and being able to create something.
With so many genres and themes, many readers have their favorite reads. I am always interested in what books people are reading because of the diversity that is available, and the treasures I find stacked on end tables are awe-inspiring. And some of the books we read in our youth hold up. Some do not. I have been known to binge-read, even if not every single book is a literary masterpiece or enthralling at every turn. And people may read the same book for entirely different reasons with vastly unique responses. As an artist, this vastness can feel overwhelming and intimidating, and also exciting since we don’t always know who will read our works. But it is our job as aspiring human creators to strive to recognize who our audiences are.
Reflection is key, I think, for many writers and other artists because we often seek to validate our experiences while creating shared meaning. The deal with words though is that they hold so many meanings depending on context. They carry power to include or exclude, to create or destroy, to disclose or enclose information. As I am in the midst of writing, I ask myself how much of my intentions will emerge through the protagonist’s thought-sharing and how much will play out through dialogue or descriptions. Reflection sets the stage for an author to consider how their book might be read by their grandparents’ generation compared to the youth of tomorrow. As a writing exercise, I try to summarize what my story would sound like to my elementary school-aged son and friends. Would it be told differently so that the meaning is translatable to other age groups? Authors also consider the metaverse and their sub-text and themes when developing a “reader’s hook,” for example. The hook for Jurassic Park, as “a dino theme park gone wrong,” is a classic, which illustrates how reflection and observation are required for effective writing and sparking an interest in the reader.
A two-way valve
We have so many clichés about how it’s the journey, not the destination. In any pursuit of self-growth, you might discover truth in this. But does this hold true for experiences we choose over experiences we do not? Have you ever been so enthralled in a book that you do not wish to even think the name near Google, lest the ending be spoiled through an unsolicited review…only to have the author throw your hopes and dreams for the protagonist under a bus? This sums up my relationship with Mr. Pip. The interesting thing about co-creation is that it is a dynamic process. Our biased existence is not separate from what we are able to create, though our existence and ability to create are not necessarily mutually exclusive either.
But we are speaking of books! Being in an awesome local book club also helps me question the relationship between an author’s intention and the impact on the audience. We are not always in possession of the conscious understanding of why the stories that strike us as interesting do so. So, naturally, when it came to be my turn to choose a book to read for the month, I chose my favorite: The Emperor of Gladness by Ocean Vuong. It truly is my favorite, I shared with excitement. Without fully exploring my intentions, I gradually developed panic. I had not considered the ending or how it would land for everyone. This hits different for me as an artist because I want my work to be transparent and authentic. And for me, Ocean Vuong has mastered this art; along with many dozens of other literary talents. Now, the thing about this book is that the story—pause for a partial spoiler—the story, in the end, is sad. Yet, as sure as Grazina’s faith in carrots, the story is filled with hope. As a writer, I implore myself to remain open to the continual dialogue among us in co-creating shared meaning as thinkers, creators, and readers. I want to remain vulnerable to constructive criticism and respectful opposition in minding the impact of my work. Whose voices are being elevated? Whose voices are absent?
Ocean Vuong drew me to his book through a friend’s recommendation (my friends rock at book recommendations). And he had me at the mention of Weezer in depicting the town of East Gladness, nestled in my desire to understand and commitment to reflective listening. While it may not always be a conscious decision readers take to fall in love with a book, it surely is noticeable when we (authors) have contrived work (there are deadlines). And there are limits to what we should write about. Since it is essential for writers to remain in the world, I am encouraged to remain open to this process (and in going to book club).
Layers
Sometimes I write for the sole purpose of processing information without the intention of sharing it with anyone. As a reader, I am drawn to writers who show their audience this process through layers. Layers of observations and experiences that come through the lives of the fictional yet utterly identifiable relationships among their characters. How can writers craft good characters? Characters that are believable and relatable? It’s tricky. Writers can make their characters say anything; characters can speak the opinions of anyone who has drawn the author’s interest, which is everyone (including the author), in a way that drives the story forward. Sometimes, when I am writing to process my thoughts, I jot down notes about what my characters might do or think. Some of this writing never actually goes into the book. But some of it does! How much should we describe explicitly? How much should be implicit or subtle? Similar to how a painter needs to rinse their palette, organize their brushes, mix some base colours, test strokes with a wetted, padded brush—technical precision matters even if the audience is not fully aware of what it has entailed.
And, as with all works, authors have a semi-finite window of time to sort out what they really want to say before they share it. Once it’s out there, it’s out there. Much like the first edition of my first novel, with two spelling errors that I may fix, the work of artists becomes external and public. In terms of intention, when an author has a conscious understanding of what they are trying to communicate, to whom, and of the various unintended impacts their writing may have, it creates the type of transparency that readers crave. Why does my inner reader crave transparency? Because, regardless of how many creative liberties an artist takes, they are filtering and representing information and experiences that are somehow real.
Final thoughts
Like puzzle pieces, eventually what I want to say makes its way onto the page. And reflection is necessary for this to occur. I have learned that I need the space between my thoughts to be long enough for me to write them down.
Context matters. Two people can read the same thing while being impacted in entirely different ways; therein lies writing effectiveness: the relationship between an author’s intention and the impact on how a reader absorbs and integrates what they have read. Authors should be aware of whose voices are included and those who are excluded, and perhaps those stories who they feel that it is their privilege and duty to share under the appropriate or gifted authority (this is why I always read the author’s acknowledgements section).
Communication is a two-way valve—a metaphor which appeals to me as the involuntary aspect of fluid between portals/openings represents an ever-sought flow state, the connection to the Muse and whatever other powers that we believe guide the creation process. Intention and impact are fluid, connecting people and ideas across time and space. As creators, that is where the magic happens: the in-between states. Just how A Wrinkle in Time holds up.