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What I Want To Do

July 7, 2011
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When I write, I want to write something that does to your emotions what a runaway SUV does to a holiday crowd. I want it to twist and roll and what it does in a moment can never be undone. I want to make you fall in love with someone doomed, to gasp in awe at their triumphs, to worry yourself to the point of anguish over their failings until you want to scream into the page for them to stop doing the things that made you love them. I want to draw something down from the heavens, terrible in its majesty, inevitable yet capricious in who it spares and who it takes.

And then I want to make you gasp for breath in wonder at folly. I want to take something you see every day and twist and stretch it until it looks as alien as a microbe under a slide, and I want you to experience something you have considered. I want to turn something grey into chiaroscuro, something drab into a vivid throng of colours. I want to show you what you have never seen in what you have always seen.

And then I want to make you read minds, to see humanity more clearly than you have before. To feel what it is like to not be you but still be something recognizably human. I want to force you to forgive someone you I made you hold in contempt, to chastise someone you love for the sins I have made them commit. I want to manipulate you, it is true, I want to put new tastes on your palate and textures on your tongue.

I want to do to you what the best literature has done to me.

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