Composing a crescendo (a random musing on writing while waiting for someone)

[Originally posted as a Facebook note]

So two weeks ago I was talking to someone about my hobby of op-ed writing, to which he asked how I was different from an analyst. I found the question a little odd because I never quite thought of myself as an "analyst" when penning pieces (though sure, analysis is always involved).

My initial answers are less important than a point I made to him later on - which was that I saw myself, when writing, as a composer. This is not an accidental word/random answer and further reflection afterwards made me realise why. Recall how in primary school the "writing" component in the English Language subject was called "composition", long before we ever heard the term "essay". As we got older, we began to hear the word "composition" less and less and the word "essay" more and more. This was probably because "composition" was associated with narrative writing; argumentative writing was seen as something else altogether. We moved past "composition" before truly understanding what the word meant. If we did, we would have realised it applied to all writing - any act of writing is an act of composition.

Today, as adults, we seem to have lost sense of this concept of writing as composition, instead thinking of writing in terms of the structural outputs - paragraphs, points, counterpoints - and the intellectual work involved - analysis and argumentation. But writing is first and foremost, as it was when it was first taught to us yet never truly understood by us, an act of composition.

And that is how I see myself when I write op-eds - as though I were composing a piece of music, or making a film. I weave together various threads in society, putting them together to produce something new. Like an orchestra that gradually builds up to a crescendo, I seek to take you through a musical journey of sorts too. Word by word - chosen ever so carefully - I build my case, increasing the tempo and rhythm till we hit that carefully-crafted crescendo, and then, the chorus starts. Like a film-maker, I don’t always need to spell out everything, providing the astute reader the opportunity to read between the lines, while making sure this is never a necessity for understanding. As we head towards the inevitable conclusion, I sometimes insert plot twists, deliberately engineered right from the first word you read - but if and only if it helps me make my point. Every word is there for a reason, every step of the way configured with intention.

Do things always go as planned? No. Are there points of disagreement? Absolutely, and so there should be. Are there areas where I can be much better at? Always. I have so much, so much more to learn and am thankful for the guidance provided by the editors I've had the pleasure to work with. The point I am trying to make here is not about the outcome, which is of course important (and should translate to some social good). Rather, my point is about the emotions involved in the process of getting to that outcome, whatever that outcome may be. The process of creating a work, of constructing a piece, of composing that crescendo. That process captures emotions which I hope this short musing today has done some justice to.

Writing has been, and always will be, an act of composition. And if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off to compose my next piece now.