He said, She said: Questions Posed, some left unanswered . . .

Authorship and narration are *divorced* [touchy subject I know, though it is becoming all the more common] . Who writes something shouldn’t necessarily determine how that which is written sounds. It could be supposed that writers today, if they so desired, could write in the style of other writers. Writers must rely on different voices–especially in fiction writing–to capture some degree of authenticity and realism in a piece.

When we write we chose a voice and in that voice we are able to convey whatever it is that we are trying to get across. 

A given voice may prove to be archaic. It mightn't seem to be of the modern day.
It could perhaps, have the potential to seem tentative.
Some voices are direct.

Others seem to take a long while before they can communicate a sole point.

All voices are the sum of an individual experience, whether or not that experience is that of whomever wrote the words on the page. 

To write is to wield voice over authorship. It is manipulative.

We choose a voice based on context. If, for example, I was writing for a specific class, I suppose the tone would be professional, the form–rhetorical. 

What makes a voice? Was that rhetorical? 

All of these things are written by me. Questions and answers presented and un-presented, words created and employed, others passed over, all in an effort of getting some greater point across.

Sometimes, it would seem that where he’s going isn’t the always the clearest.
He oft poses contradictions with himself.
To what end?

I suppose the point isn’t always identified at the start. It is a struggle–a grappling with a given subject within the confines that a certain voice allows for. That voice is constrained to the rhetorical situations that hinder it as belonging to a singular individual.

In writing we have the opportunity for choice. We can withhold some-things, we can manipulate syntax and diction in order to sound as though we know what we’re talking about.

I only talk about things that I know about! 

What is rhetoric after all? 

I daresay that every scenario a man finds himself in belongs to some greater context and therein he 
must author up some piece of word-play that fits to it as if a glove.

It’s still all rhetoric . . .


Is this a conversation? Is this an essay?

[It’s an assignment for Theories of Writing] — See: Petals on a Wet, Black Bough

Which one? 

“YES”


What is it we are, collectively, referring to? In this context it would seem that only YOU have the capacity to distinguish what it is that is being said. 

So many questions, only some with answers, others fly away into the

CoLlEcTiVe CoNsCiOuSnEsS [Hope I spelled that <–right–{though it’s to the left}. Looks cool though!]

We must be self-aware, but cannot know all. 

There is no self to be found herewith.

Here I am. 

There You are.

We are but in a dialogue, though the reign[s] of discourse blur the boundaries. 

How much is there beyond the other side of the page? How much is censored herewith by the rhetoric, the context?

WHERE AM I?  

 

 

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