Translator: Katie Granger Reviewer: Keira White
(Music)
I usually tell my students that my subject is the best,
I can argue and debate it with whoever might want to.
I am a language and literature teacher,
but also,
I’m a word activist.
Of the words that form us,
that we are and that we say.
I’m convinced that words are what form us,
but also that with them we build the universe we live in.
I beg to differ with the idea that “a picture paints a thousand words”.
or the notion that actions speak louder than words.
Speaking is an action too,
and not just thinking about performative utterances
or speech acts,
but also because, when we speak, we give an identity to the things we name.
Words become reality
and we act,
especially when we write.
And the words remain there, everlasting.
The written word doesn’t disappear in a puff of smoke.
What we write endures,
it makes us stop, it makes us think.
I think about words in all their forms,
spoken, heard, read and written.
I encourage that in my classes, workshops and bookclubs,
and in the content I create on social networks
and in almost every conversation that I have.
I’m committed to it, I’m passionate about it,
but I also need it.
I have trouble imagining life without writing.
And when I say write, I don’t just mean the specific moment
when I put pen to paper.
At school we’re taught...
We teach
that verbs can be classified into three areas:
action verbs, verbs of state and process verbs.
I like to think that writing belongs to all three groups.
I sit in front of a computer,
I push the buttons or slide the pencil across the page.
That’s an action,
but I can also be in a state of writing.
When I get a particular feeling.
When I listen, observe and analyse.
We’re writing from the moment we get up,
as we watch the curtain dance
in the breeze, right where there is a draft
or when we imagine the conversation between two people
that we see from the window of the bus.
And thirdly, once we’ve written something,
we re-read our texts,
we check them, correct them, and if they’re any good,
we share them with other people and we find new ways to read them.
We put them to one side for a few days, a few months, a few years.
And we go back to those texts and we realise
how much they tell us about a moment in our lives,
from one glance at the world.
It’s a process.
Writing enriches us on a personal level
and collectively.
In our personal lives it helps us to arrange things and understand them,
to learn,
to imagine.
One of the writing exercises that I like to suggest
is to invent a character who writes a letter, let’s say,
and as they do it, they begin to understand
what’s really going on with him.
And that’s how it works.
There’s something revealing and magical about writing,
a lot of inventiveness,
of sending something out into the world that wasn’t there before,
of creating something based on a bit of ink on a piece of paper.
When we read and write like they’re two sides of the same coin,
we include more vocabulary and expressions,
and the more words and structures we know,
the more we can think and analyse, and the better human beings we will be.
Collectively,
writing lets us communicate
and study.
We create codes that are common to us
that aren’t only ways of saying things,
but they’re also ways of living as a society.
and forming more valuable bonds.
We create memories.
We remember.
We learn from the past
and map out the future.
Because, what would become of the world if we didn’t preserve
centuries of written knowledge?
But also,
what would become of our stories
if we didn’t keep Grandma’s recipe,
written in her own handwriting,
or a niece’s first words
stuck onto the fridge with a magnet?
Writing makes us value our own words,
but most of all, other people’s words.
That’s why it’s democratisation is so important,
from early literacy
to making space for all voices.
Let’s gift notebooks
and listen.
Let’s read that text that a budding writer shared with us.
Let’s give them respectful feedback.
Let’s give words the opportunity to be liberating.
Nowadays, we write and read more than ever,
and the abundance of spaces, especially on the internet,
could tempt us
to do things anywhere and at any cost,
like commentators on online publications or serial Twitter trolls.
But if we engage in the writing process,
it goes hand in hand
with reading books
and the world,
with creative, autonomous, critical thinking.
The writing that I suggest, that I’m militant about,
values slowness
in a world that’s getting faster and faster.
That transforms it into a revolutionary act
because when we write, it doesn’t matter.
Exact synonyms don’t exist.
The words that we choose reveal our world view.
In literature, all of this is magnified,
not from a practical perspective, but because of it’s creative power.
The story “The Sand Bridge” by Liliana Bodoc
quite rightly starts by saying:
“Sometimes, stories are echoes and glimpses of certain events.
We are teling people what happened.
Sometimes, stories are fragments of dreams.
We tell them so that they happen.”
Writers, scribes, Arts people, creators.
All of these categories aside, I suggest we should all try to write more.
And to do it, these ideas come to mind.
First, we can write organisational texts
like schedules, projects, diaries.
Perhaps, giving them a more literary tone.
A morning journal, that we write while we’re still half asleep
giving us a deadline, a certain timescale.
Or writing a dream diary
with a notepad always handy on the bedside table.
Maybe, if we want to embrace our subjectivity,
we could write communicative texts,
letters, even if we never send them,
or pay closer attention to the messages we send on our phones
or via email.
And select words, create a style.
If we dare to take the leap and write creatively,
we can follow instructions,
participate in workshops that ask us to write at a specific time
or use images or videos for inspiration.
And perhaps, what would help the most
is to think about writing as a habit.
Writing a little every day,
form rituals.
Choose something delicious to have with it
and music to create the right atmosphere.
Make writing into a special occasion.
It is said that reading
is like breathing in
and writing is breathing out.
And we’re right there
in the middle of a constant ebb and flow of words.
I invite each and everyone of you
to write something based on that pause,
on that breath.
Because in a world
where we spend time choosing our words;
trying them out and savouring them;
thinking about who will receive them;
and in what contexts, the world can only be a better place.
When in doubt,
write
so your wishes become projects.
Your ideas become reality,
problems become questions
and stories become magic.
Write as a response to everything.
Thank you.
(Music)