There is, as has always been, opinions in every living soul who has received a viable brain through the process of birth, and, therefore, a mind processed by that healthy brain. Even when the human body has been dispossessed of its faculties through injury or disease and has been valgomater totally unable to function, while the brain has remained untouched and unaffected by physical dysfunction, the human mind has continued to create every variety of thought, of love, hate, indifference, and, consequently, decisions based upon opinions predicated upon facts and emotional value judgments. Over a lifetime, the accumulated learning of a human being is indeterminate in terms of quantity and value. If a person seeks to acquire knowledge through continuously reading dit-vejle the written words of good books and studying the lessons of history, science, and philosophy that they contain, he will become able to write the expressions of his own mind with astute fineness. Voracious reading therefore accompanies the acquisition of writing skills.
While this article concerns the type and quality of writing done by every currently living soul that creates fiction or non-fiction, prose or poetry by the use of human language, its primary purpose in to emphasize the singularity and salience of each and every product of dit-holstebro human literary endeavor, and that opinions, good or bad, of those many unnumbered products are inconsequential to their respective significance. Especially with the use of a language such as English, in its American and British styles and varieties, an individual human being can create an expression of words, clauses, sentences, and paragraphs that in that person’s mind is thoroughly exceptional and perfectly designed; even though another person may read that expression and regard it as inferior and totally lacking in quality. Take for instance, the shortest verse of the Holy Bible, “Jesus wept.” Without any other supporting and defining context, those two words might be regarded as totally meaningless and without literary significance to atheists, agnostics, and non-Christians. Yet, to any illiterate Christian who has only heard the Bible read to him, but who believes that Jesus is the Son of God, the only begotten dit-koege Son of the eternal Father, those two words may mean a great deal. Since that two-word verse was originally written during the First Century, thousands of thick books have been written by esoteric and persevering men and women about what those two words mean in veneration of, and opposition to, Jesus Christ.
As such, whatever someone writes at any particular time, about any particular thing or topic, has particular significance to that writer, or to other people about whom it is written. It has been proven invariably true that what has been produced and regarded as written rubbish and garbage in one age can come to be appreciated and relished as literary inter-hus greatness in a later age. This is why a writer, any writer, should never sell himself, or his literary work, short as lacking discernable value. Opinions invariably vary when it comes to the value of prose and poetry. For instance, certain early short venerated stories of Ernest Hemingway rewritten and disguised with different adjectives, adverbs, and prepositions, but of the same meaning and effect, and submitted to editors unnamed, would undoubtedly be rejected for publication, unless under the authorship of currently well-published writers. They would be sent back to the submitters with letters advising them to seriously revise grammar, punctuation, syntax, voice, and construction. Some well-read editors might, however, actually recognize the disguised Hemingway work. Yet, if Hemingway, under another name, were alive today and wrote what he did in his very early years, in the haggard style and fashion that he did during the 1920s (such as “Cross-Country Snow,” and “Mr. and Mrs. Elliot) I seriously doubt that they would be accepted and published without serious and detailed revision.
The point I’m making is that even though Hemingway was seemingly compelled to write, and write he did, he was obviously seriously lacking bet2play at first in writing skills, but improved himself in voice and style every time he wrote. The prolific horror writer, Stephen King, numerous decades later, stated in his only non-fiction book, “On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft,” that serious writing requires serious revision, but that too much revision can rob a story of its uniqueness. Nonetheless, what someone writes in total obscurity without revision can be later regarded, with the efforts of positive literary critique, as the veritable product of genius and mastery. A good example of this is the posthumous grandeur of Emily Dickinson’s poetry, which she hid from public view all through her life. An further example of this might be the “Diary of Anne Frank.” Many literary critics of the writing of Anne Frank were quick to acclaim the historical significance of Frank’s very personal work while hardly mentioning its literary quality. Had the work been totally fictional and written by a young Christian girl in the years after World War II, perhaps it would have been rejected for publication as seriously lacking noteworthiness. In other words, what can be very personally written by an ordinary person at a time under extreme duress might very well later be regarded as extraordinary, if publicized as such by literary critics of celebrity standing.
Hence, while in the closing years of my long-time literary writing pursuit, I will admit that very few of my own many prose and poetic works, committed to paper and to virtual electronic files, have been published in books and magazines to ruffles and flourishes. Yet, I will never ever assert that any of what I’ve written has been without redeeming value, though I will confess that I’ve been remiss in not submitting for publication very many of my literary products. Forty-five years of literary endeavor have produced for me some very serious and tasty food for my own reflection and introspection, for what I have written has come more from my heart than from my mind. Therefore, as a closing thought, I submit that the cognitive written products of the human mind are undoubtedly, and constantly, tempered, processed, and refined through the collective and cumulative mercies, goodness, and feeling of the human heart, for it pumps not only blood but the essence of humanity and the will of nature’s God.