Heavy is the Hand that Holds the Writing Thing

First things first. There is a lot of language that I have put out into the world and not all of it is honest and constructive/creative/life-giving. This is natural and to be expected. This is also a problem. While most human beings, and even many academics, see language as the great human equalizer (our [il]literacy puts us all on the same meaning-making/transferring playing field), I have recently begun to recognize the mammoth responsibility we as people inherit when we learn to speak and, as an extension, write. Okay so words are placeholders for images, objects, concepts, idea[l]s, and so forth. I’m totally fine with this. But when we use language irresponsibly (when we create word patterns that mislead or tear down our brother and sister humans) there are implications.

An immediate example comes to mind when I think of advertising. When people use language to build false meanings for consumer objects, something in the meaning-making part of our brains shifts and augments future language/experience/feelings. If I, as I often do as a copywriter, use the human feeling of passion to help advertise an automobile, both the concept of passion and the concept of automobiles change in the minds of myself and my readers (hopefully no one reads my copy). As a result, I fear readers might do one of the following things (or, eventually, all of them):

1.                    Actually start equating passion with automobiles (I’m not worried about car-enthusiasts here. If someone actually loves cars, my words will do nothing to change their beliefs. It’s the people who don’t love cars but start think they should because I say they should that I’m worried about. There is nothing about owning an automobile that will make a person more or less passionate about anything except fuel-consumption).

2.                    After recognizing that discounted automobiles should not raise passion-levels to heights of say, romantic love or patriotic duty (as I often imply they should in my advertisements), stop believing in passion at all (because when they did believe in passion, some irresponsible writer twisted their notions to try to sell them a 1998 Honda Civic).

3.                    After recognizing that deceptive language perverted their dearly held beliefs, stop trusting language and language makers in general and not truly read or feel anything (just in case someone is trying to pull a fast one on them).

Writers need to be honest with their language (or, if they’re going to lie, at least let the lies be of benefit to their readers, i.e., “everything is going to be okay,” etc.). To make a living I put words out into space that might not be the best things for people to read. I feel bad about this and hope readers are wise enough to see deceitful language for what it is (mainly hair grease, smoke and mirrors, and the best I can do to get by). For those that aren’t wise enough, I hope to make up for my irresponsible language with words that actually do something positive for the collective. It is with this hope that I offer the following apology:

Forgive me for the words

I drained of ocean

water and candle light.

They were the only ones

I could find on

sale this time of year. Also,

forgive me for buying

them with unearned coin

and even more for selling

them to the unsuspecting

thirsty and dark.

I thought this unspoken

business was the only way

to speak. I am rich because

of it and no less

mistaken.