The Blind Artisan

A few weeks ago I read The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin, often listed as one of the genre's masterpieces its innovative treatment of several deep themes. It draws its title from its exploration of inner light and darkness, the known and the unknown, and proposes that we most accept both. That idea spoke to me.

As a writer, I am limited: I rarely comprehend my own writing, at least not in full. I can be the doer or I can be the thinker, but not both at once. I just don’t have the mental resources to view what I write as what it truly is: both the sum of the parts and the parts themselves, simultaneously. If I try, I get overwhelmed, blinded, and so to create I must limit my vision.

For me, writing is much like putting on a welder’s mask. The welder’s tool, the arc, could blind the welder in a second, so the welder wears a mask that blocks out all but the brightest light. The mask lets the welder see the details right next to the arc, but nothing farther away. In order to see the work in full, the welder must to flip the mask up, step back, and plan.

                                                   

So like the welder, I fumble. I poke and scrape in the dark. I focus on details, I feel them weave together under my hand without fully understanding them, and every once in awhile I pull back and examine what I’ve done. Often I shake my head and put the mask back on, sometimes I nod my head at a solid day’s work, and on occasion I impress myself.

It’s important that I plan ahead, but not too far ahead. Too much light can blind, after all: too great an understanding stifles the creative impulse, because when you already know everything, why bother creating more? That’s not to say planning isn’t important. A welder who works on and on without flipping up the mask, stepping back, and looking creates a very hot mess, figuratively and literally. It’s important to alternate: putting on the mask to work, taking off the mask to plan, weaving together the two roles in a way that works for you.

When you create, understand that you can never understand what you do. Not in full. And learn to accept it.