I am today continuing to draw nuggets of wisdom from Thomas Carlyle’s 31 March 1829 letter to Henry Inglis. I wish we had Inglis’ letter to Carlyle that spawned this letter, but we have only Carlyle’s response. Inglis must have asked for some advice on writing, for Carlyle responded:

As to writing, for the present, I will neither advise nor dissuade you. If you have any heartfelt interest in any literary matter; any idea that gives you no rest till it be uttered, commit it to paper, and if circumstances favour, to the Press, the sooner the better. Only if you have no such interest, no such idea, do not in any wise regard it as a misfortune (most probably it is a blessing, for the sweetest fruit is longest in ripening) but simply as a sign that your vocation as yet is not to impart but to acquire. Meanwhile tell me always what you project and accomplish in the way of study and reading; and for your own private use, keep plentiful Notebooks, on which let your pen be often occupied.

Ah, Thomas, you write to me! You say you don’t provide any advice, at least you will not “advise nor dissuade” in the matter whether to pursue writing. But you say to commit to paper any idea which seems good to my mind as a potential writing topic. Good, this accords with what I am doing. Just this morning I made a list of the Bible study/small group study guides that have been rolling around in my mind. I have most of these on a capture sheet, somewhere (probably in a certain, unlabeled notebook on my closet shelf; I can picture where that is.

You also say “commit…if circumstances favour, to the Press”, i.e. seek to have that idea published. That’s exactly where I am, writing but not seeking publication. Perhaps this effort in this time will result in sweeter fruit. If not, it should result in my sweeter disposition.

Meanwhile, Thomas, for my own private use, I am keeping plentiful notebooks, on which my pen is frequently occupied.

Once again, I want to draw a lesson out of Thomas Carlyle’s 31 March 1829 letter to Henry Inglas. Here is the text I quoted recently:

…I look forward to see how in the future you will unfold and turn to use so fair a talent. For henceforth, it depends nearly altogether on yourself: if you can but learn the lessons which Experience will teach you, it matters little whether these be of a sweet or bitter nature: the bitter as well as the sweet are but the rind enclosing a fruit of Wisdom, which is in itself celestial and perennial. Diligence, unwearied steadfast Endeavour; ‘like the stars, unhasting, unresting’!

I love Carlyle’s metaphor of the rind that encloses, encapsulates a fruit of wisdom–actually Wisdom, personified. Metaphor almost always does a good job of explaining concepts, at least metaphors done well do. Carlyle did this well, in my judgment.

So the experiences of life should serve to provide Wisdom, and this Wisdom should then help you in your life. Perhaps what Carlyle wrote next will also be of interest.

This is the sceptre with which man rules his Destiny; and tho’ fragile as a reed, removes mountains, spiritual as well as physical. I need not remind you here that such Diligence as will avail is not of book-studies alone; but primarily, and in a far higher degree respects the heart and moral dispositions. He who loves Truth, knows it to be priceless, and cleaves to it thro’ all shapes, in thought, word, and deed, as to the life of his soul. Nay I believe the first and infinitely the most important question with regard to any Student of Knowledge is precisely this very question, so often overlooked: what is the state of his moral temper and practice? Does he really love Truth, or only the market-price of Truth, the praise and money it will sell for? Has he conquered his vanity; or, rather since that is impossible, is he faithfully striving against it?

I find that inspiring.

Writers are always looking for ideas for writing. Some writers struggle with this, being at paper with pen and drawing a blank. Others don’t. I don’t tend to have a problem with writing ideas. Sometimes capturing them and keep them from fleeing before they can be permanently locked down in a manner that will allow future development is a problem, but not the ideas themselves. These ideas typically come from life experiences, as Carlyle suggests.

One such event happened on 17 August 2004, and I wrote this cinquain as a result.

Fused
They met
on Tuesday morn,
quite accidentally.
You think it fate that made two one
head on?

What was the incident? A head on collision that I came upon perhaps five minutes after it happened, while on my morning commute. West Bound and East Bound, on that rural highway, found themselves in the same spot on the road, on a curve. The speed of the impact and centrifugal force forced the cars, now fused together, off the road outside the curve. By the time I went by, three or four other cars had stopped. One person was on a cell phone and three others were working car doors. I didn’t figure my feeble physical skill would provide any more help than was already at work, so I went on. About seven minutes later emergency vehicles from town came at and passed me. I don’t see how anyone could have survived the accident, but I never saw the police report to learn the details.

I decided to write the cinquain about the experience, forcing myself to stay within constraints of the cinquain form, trying disguising the words enough to imply a different meaning–a relationship–without leaving the other meaning out. I think I achieved that aim.

That was one of Experience’s bitter lessons, one about driving I hoped I learned, and one about writing ideas.

More about this letter from Carlyle to Inglis in my next post.

Being between reading projects at work, I have on occasion gone to the Carlyle letters on line and read with great enjoyment. I had in mind to look through some of Carlyle’s early letters to see if they had any indication of some of his later extremes in political matters. I’m not sure I have yet found anything concerning my search. What I did find was a wonderful letter from Thomas Carlyle to Henry Inglis, written on 31 March 1829. Carlyle was 33; Inglis eleven years younger.

Although Carlyle was not yet at the point where his writing was providing him with renown or financial success, he was still able to give the younger man some advice about his future work and using his talent. Consider this excerpt.

…I look forward to see how in the future you will unfold and turn to use so fair a talent. For henceforth, it depends nearly altogether on yourself: if you can but learn the lessons which Experience will teach you, it matters little whether these be of a sweet or bitter nature: the bitter as well as the sweet are but the rind enclosing a fruit of Wisdom, which is in itself celestial and perennial. Diligence, unwearied steadfast Endeavour; ‘like the stars, unhasting, unresting’!

“It depends nearly altogether on yourself.” That phrase hit me hard when I read it last Friday. I have been bemoaning the difficulties of being published. It seems I have tried to break in to publishing at the wrong time. First I was unhappy to learn that the publisher does almost no marketing of books, except a catalogue entry; the author has to do everything. Then the concept of author’s “platform” hit me hard. I have no platform, and so am even less likely to be considered for book publishing. So I thought of my long-thought-of newspaper column as a means of platform building. Then, at the same time when Life was squeezing time from me, I saw what was happening in the newspaper business, the rapid shrinking of markets and failure to compete with the Internet–that and all the marketing time it would take to go that route. And, having little hope that that time would materialize, I put just about everything on hold.

Of course, I should not expect breaking in to a new business, having a second career, to be easy. I don’t know why I ever thought otherwise. Carlyle, as remote as he is to today and to me, is saying that success in this new endeavor depends on me. It’s not how well I write–because writing better is something that is totally within my power through improving my craft. It’s now about whether I have the right ideas–for market research is something I can and should do. It’s not about who you know–well, actually it is, but I can figure out how to meet people. Etc., etc., etc.

Okay, TC, back to the drawing board I guess. If you can just help me figure out how to find three or four more hours in the day, that would be a big help.