I’m listening to a pretty interesting audiobook on my runs. It’s “The Man From Beijing” by Henning Mankell. Only about a third into the story, but it’s quite gripping already. Mankell is another fascinating Swedish writer -- after the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo series by Stieg Larsson, I wonder what is it with Sweden to produce such good mystery writers. Maybe it’s the long winter with not much to do that gets the imagination going?
In the book one of the characters, a Chinese man, writes a book of his life. He’s going through a rough period in life -- in fact, his whole life is rough and full of misfortunes -- and, when he starts writing, everyone in his family is dead. He wonders who is he writing the memoir for. Then he realizes that it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he writes it, then, if no one else wants to listen, he’ll tell his story to the wind. He will find the way to make the wind listen and carry his words.
I wonder if that is the winning formula, the right attitude to write? Without caring if anyone will ever read it. Just throw the words into the whirl of pixels, the digital version of the wind, to carry them far and wide. Maybe, one day, someone will find them and care enough to read. Maybe not. But the satisfaction of pouring one’s life into words will live with the author.
Is this what I’m doing here, on the pages of this blog?
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