Writing for Discovery
The Value of Exploring the Unknown
More than an Essay
“Do you want to do something tonight?” My wife asked with quiet excitement. “I would, but I have to write this essay for class,” I responded, watching the hope melt away from her face.
During this period of my life, my schoolwork consumed me on the weekends.
I started an associate degree in web design in early adulthood. Following my ADHD and curiosity wherever it took me, I next pursued a bachelor’s in biblical studies and theology. Finally, at this moment, I was committed to a master’s degree in business administration, which put a damper on end-of-week activities.
The essay I set out to write that night would likely take an hour or two, despite being two to five thousand words. I would go upstairs to write, intending to dedicate the entire night to the task at hand, only to come down a little later with everything done. She responded with, “Did you seriously write that whole essay this fast?” I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. It was not as if I had examined other people in their essay writing my whole life.
All Roads Lead to One
If you have read previous essays on The Dusty Muzzle, it will be of no surprise that I was involved in music for many years of my life. This era of my life resulted in a catalog of over a hundred songs.
Looking back, it was interesting to me that the songs I wrote during this period seemed to flow seamlessly from my mind to the notepad.
I remember sitting in studios after first hearing a beat. I would write the hook and a verse, and often have it recorded before others finished writing their verse. This all appeared rather normal to me, but looking back, I started noticing a pattern related to writing.
Where else have I seen this before?
Ever since the music, I have carried this unexplainable urge to produce some sort of creative product.
I started a podcast. Research showed me that most podcasters operated from a set of notes. My podcast comprised reading a manuscript that appeared somewhat effortlessly from my pen.
I have also started YouTube channels hoping to satisfy this urge. Following suit from the podcast, this was also a product of my reading a manuscript that I put together.
I have written many sermons and teachings that also flowed directly from a manuscript.
These examples display multiple pursuits born from a desire to explore an idea.
However, the friction that existed in the adventures was always what came after the writing.
Mixing and mastering songs was burdensome. The same goes for the editing of the podcast. The YouTube videos were no different. Although I enjoy preaching and teaching, the delivery burdened me long before I ever stood before the people.
Writing was at the core of these expressive journeys. The burning coal of the train puffed out as the adventures brought me past writing.
A Hunger for Answers
Most people would probably look at this and see random, unrelated circumstances.
Looking beyond the surface to find the truth that hides itself in the details has rewarded me immensely. It was not until I set my eye behind the microscope that important questions emerged.
I began wondering why writing feels so natural? Why do I find writing so enjoyable? What would happen if pursued writing in itself? Would I persevere longer than I have in these other areas?
I began squeezing these questions with the pressure of unfinished pursuits so that answers might burst forth.
Before any explanations manifested, my fingers were clicking away violently in Obsidian, piecing the puzzle together.
Wrestling with the Questions
As the pieces fit together, I wondered if my imagination was the primary driver of my writing. Not imagination in the sense of having been a great reader of literature, but more in the sense of what is possible?
This might explain my interest in music.
As I continued to write songs, the skill of translating emotions and thoughts into words became easier and easier.
I can remember the first song I wrote. Much of the time consisted in trying to figure out what I was going to say. I had little experience writing prior to this and was unsure of who I was and how to even say what I wanted to say.
As I continued writing music lyrics, I noticed how the instrumental exposed me.
The melody and rhythm of the beat spoke to emotions I did not understand. It brought up memories I had almost forgotten. Thoughts I had never thoroughly considered.
Writing lyrics was now as simple as having a conversation. The beat served as a catalyst for discovery. The song itself became evidence of a discovery.
The craft of creating music occupied ten vivid years of my life.
Schooling poked its head into my life during the musical beginnings.
College work was full of essays. Honestly, essays that I found worthless. The result was that I was naturally trying to reach the word count as quickly as possible to turn it in.
Musically, the instrumental was the prompt that generated a discussion. In school, the assignment acted in this manner.
Either way, I quickly knew how I would respond and had no trouble getting the sentences out on paper.
Was this because I was using writing to discover the answer?
The avenues of podcasting, YouTube, and preaching all lead to the same stream. I was doing the same thing I had always been doing.
I still could not understand why the writing happened so fast or why I enjoyed it so much.
A Discovery of Discovery
That is until I discovered something significant.
Writing was a journey into unknown territory.
Through my writing, I was discovering what was possible.
These were not things that settled in my head, but seemed to take place as I started writing words on the paper.
Reinforcing the Evidence
I recently finished reading a Dostoyevsky book called The Idiot. I researched this book before I read it, and one thing that stood out to me was what may have inspired him to write this novel.
He seemed to wonder what would happen if you put a good and caring person like the Prince into Russian society? If this happened during this time, with these characters, how would the story play out?
Ultimately, his curiosity led him to write to discover what was possible.
One of the striking things about this novel is that it does not seem that he started with the end in mind. Moreso, the ending developed as characters naturally arrived there based on how they would legitimately act in these situations.
I am convinced the same forces are at play in my writing.
If you consider the essays that I write here, many start with an experience. This experience leads to a question.
Through my writing, I am considering the question and examining the possibility of how I can explain it. Often I don’t know the answer until I arrive near the end of the essay.
Sometimes I even think I have it figured out until my writing escorts me to a completely different conclusion than before.
Such is the mystery of writing.
It becomes very clear when I examine my process for creating a sermon.
The passages I teach on, I have read many times before. I try to read through the Bible every year and study different passages at random times.
However, until I turn that passage into a vehicle and send it down the road of possibility, I rarely arrive at thoughtful conclusions. This process of writing to explain is also for me, writing for discovery.
The Hidden Treasure
Throughout these past months, my reading and writing have been a staple of my existence.
They also act as fuel for one another.
My reading creates questions that find their way into my notes. Then I take these questions from my notes and set out for exploration through writing. These notes don’t always turn into essays, but they are of great value.
My instinct was to monetize this. I believed all work must produce a product of value to others.
This was when the most profound of discoveries approached me.
If my writing never left my note app, the process itself was golden!
I spent years believing the value was in a completed work.
I realize now the product was simply evidence that something priceless has already taken place.