Sometimes I write. Too much. I'm not saying it's ever bad to jot down one's thoughts, but there is a certain art to holding back just a bit. This art only applies to publishing one's works, as holding back one's thoughts from oneself is impossible in every way, shape and form.
Take the first sentence of this piece, for example. It's crisp, clean, and more importantly, it can stand on its own. If a comedian were to get up on a stage, recite said line with a straight face, and walk off stage again, he would receive a much better laugh than if he were to recite this entire piece.
He would also probably feel quite silly when he got to this sentence. Especially if he was a girl.
Point in case, I should stop writing now for dramatic effect.
Except there is so much more I'd like to say on this subject and my will power is apparently running quite low.
As I was saying, my main is that when dealing with published ramblings, less quite often IS more, and this is without a doubt due to what is called dramatic effect. To write one sentence as opposed to one paragraph speaks volumes about the character of the writer, whether they be fictional or not. If I had written nothing more than that first sentence, your train of thought and assumptions about my person would have no doubt taken a different turn.
The sentence on its own says that sometimes I write, but not right now, and gives a cheeky air to my personality. Conjoined with the following sentences and paragraphs, however, the sentence becomes a confession. More importantly, it becomes an idea.
An idea which is expanded upon, criticized, and analyzed. Instead of a sentence it becomes a thesis statement; a small part of a large piece. It is discussed in several different paragraphs, and its meaning becomes less and less significant as more and more words are put into place to demoralize and de-structure this once beautiful sentence. It is tossed, turned, and rolled through a series of debates and opinions formed by separate words and sentences. Its meaning changes, beaten into place by the words which surround it.
Finally, after being dissected beyond recognition, the thesis-and possibly the entire piece-is thrown into a conclusion paragraph, where it is labelled as a metaphor.
A metaphor as well as a social commentary.
Sometimes I write. Too much.
The first line never needed an explanation. What followed was for everybody else, and not yourself. The first line was a piece of the whole and the whole of the piece. It carries the same weight as the body, and yet without the body it is incomplete. Incomplete to those who need complete. Ironic though, that even when I reached the end I still felt like the first line was all I ever needed in the first place. Great write!
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