113. A Genuine Gift
She pauses to read what she just wrote. She examines the text carefully, looking for both errors and possible improvements. She is always reading herself as she writes. She is trying to see if her language is working.
What does it mean for the language to work? She thinks it has to do with the text’s ability to communicate her meaning. It is a question of whether or not her reader will grasp what she is trying to say. Who is this reader? It is someone she imagines, an unknown person she is always thinking about.
She thinks about what she wants her reader to see and feel. There are words she must supply and others she must withhold. Her reader might not share her experiences, her beliefs, or possibly even her values. She thinks about the life of her reader and what might appeal to someone with such a life. She often imagines it is a life very different from her own.
In truth, her reader is not one person but many. She has to empathize with all of these different people. She has to do this because she wants to give her reader something that helps them, something that meets one of their needs. This is not necessarily something they will want. Wants are different from needs. It is needs that are her concern.
The problem is that she doesn’t even understand her own needs half of the time. Needs are like this — evasive and unclear. Sometimes she feels aware of a need and at other times she has no sense of need at all. That is, until she is given something that turns out to be what she needed all along.
She is always guessing at needs. She wants to supply what her reader needs but has not yet realized they need. She wants to help them see something in their deepest self, something they have not yet discovered. She knows this might not happen, but it’s still what she aspires to do.
Most of all, she hopes her words will have value for someone. She hopes for this but she does not expect it. To expect it would be too much. It might feel like an obligation for her reader. She does not want them to feel obligated, especially not to her. Her words are a gift, and a genuine gift requires nothing to be given in return.