I have been talking about explorers on kissafrog – the traditional kind – eyes forever on the horizon, mind always on the next day. I got to thinking over my life. As a child I desperately wished to be one of those who intrepidly went – then when I grew up, I went, to find and examine new places. After years of travel, when I needed to settle a bit in order to help family members, I decided to take a University course and found, in middle life, I could still explore, but through study and the learning of the new. I have, in the third part of my life, joined up here in cyberspace a great community of writers.
Creators of tales of imagination, and what imaginations! Imagination could stand for exploration but I think we can all carry it further. It is easy to get into a comfortable rut – of knowing our genres, of being sure of our style. In fact, of knowing our neighbourhoods and neighbours. Some of us must be the explorers. Maybe we wont be James Joyce’s or Dylan Thomas’s, but words need to be played with, need to be made anew. As writers, some must push those neighbourhood boundaries and try something new. Push against the old rules and create new rules.
Writing has come so far because some writers dared, some writers pushed – sometimes failed but often won. English, itself, continually re-invented itself. I sometimes think we have become too comfortable in our world and do not dare enough. We allow the rules to stifle, to straitjacket us.
As writers we need to explore new words, new forms, new possibilities of narration and storytelling. To move forward we need to tip our hats – say ‘well folks I’m off for a stroll on the wild side, see you when I see you.’ Leave others to shake their heads and sigh. A few are doing this. I admire them, as I did those explorers of travel I admired in my youth.