The Writer and The Photographer: Passion

Chapter 15: Just Do It!

"What happened?" asked George.

"Oh I lasted about a week. I realised that I didn't need to be the best. I wanted to be good. I still want to be good, and if what I write is the very best that I can do, then that's enough for me. Fortunately for my editor, my idea of 'good' exceeds that of most people."

"What would you say to someone who wanted to write?" Jo asked quietly.

"I'd say don't want, don't try, don't wish ... just do it. When the words are there, you'll know. When they work, you will know. Trust the words." Bea watched as Louisse moved down the centre aisle to Phillip's seat. The photographer crouched and placed her hand on his knee. Bea could not hear the words the two exchanged, but Phil was smiling and nodding as Louisse straightened up and returned to the back of the hall.

"Bea," a new voice called and the writer was happy to see that it belonged to a teacher. "My name is Karen. I teach 'A' level English and Religious Science in the Winterbourne Centre. I read an interview not long ago in which you were quoted saying 'If words were a religion, then I am a devout follower.' I've had my class deliberating on what you meant by that statement. Perhaps you could explain?"

"I said that?" she asked, causing Karen's class to snicker. "I think I may have stolen it from someone. And you guys had to write an essay on it didn't you?" She smiled as the students all loudly confirmed her suspicions. Bea was still as thoughts raced through her mind. "I think I had been asked if I were religious and if so, how does my faith affect my reasons for writing. Of course, the guy eventually started listing the arguments for why I am going to hell, but that's a different story." She took a deep breath. "I guess writing has caused me to become a philosopher, in a way. All I am, everything I have is thanks to writing. I am grateful to the words for that."

"So, if I may," Karen smirked, an arrogant glint shining brightly in her eye. "There is a strong historical correlation between philosophy and literature. You say writing caused your philosophical curiosity but claim that you write because of an inability to cease. Were you to enforce that cessation would your thoughts become less philosophical? Or alternatively, if the philosophical questions were to lead you to answers that satisfied that curiosity, would your literature suffer any detrimental effects?"

Bea stared at the woman just long enough for the teacher to start believing she had won her battle of words with a writer. "Or put more simply for the little guys up front here," Bea eventually said, "if my brain turned to porridge, would my work suck?"

The hall laughed and the teacher's face flushed bright red. Louisse, in true professional style was in the perfect place to commemorate Karen's moment.

"You were always a deep thinker," Chris called from the side of the room.

Bea laughed. "Yep. Too deep back then. I think I even lost you a couple of times."

"You did. Made me think, too. I've never known anyone who instinctively looked at each tree in a forest instead of just seeing the single forest. Somehow, you knew that all the small things are more important than the whole itself."

"Seems obvious to me. Look at a story. It's made up of sentences that are made up of words that in turn are made up of letters. Life is the same way. It's made up of years which are made up of months which are made of weeks which are made with days."

"You make it sound too short," a voice grumbled.