The Value of Words

This afternoon a few fellow writers and myself ventured forth in a nor’easter to join together at a public library to read aloud Algernon Blackwood’s “The Wendigo”. It is the season for a good ghost story.

We sat in a darkened room around a homemade “camp fire”, and took turns reading Blackwood’s tale to a small audience while rain pelted the ceiling above us.  After a while, a couple got up and left, letting the library’s bright light pierce our campy production.

And we weren’t quite half-way through the text.

Which made me think…what is the value of words today?

I woke up this morning excited at the prospect of getting together to read the text aloud, for no other reason, then to enjoy Blackwood’s words bounce in my ears.  To prepare, I not only read the story, but I listened to an audio file on You Tube.  And as I sat around our “camp fire”, I focused on just the text, and took the time to read slowly with empathy.  I forgot about the audience and marveled at Blackwood’s deft imagery, and slow build of suspense.  I felt the words fill my mouth as the story went on, and took the time to consider their delivery.  I didn’t just want to read aloud, I wanted to share in the experience of Defago’s encounter.

We live in a world where prattle covers us like a wet blanket.  Words, ugly and some kind, are shot at us like bullets from a machine gun.  And how often do we think to consider the subtext of each syllable?  Maybe we have forgotten the skill of listening.

Maybe we have forgotten how to feel.

Writing needs to be more than just storytelling.  It needs to be about deliberate word play.  Shakespeare understood this.  And I think Algernon Blackwood did too.

Happy Halloween!

J.Monell