The writer as destroyer and creator

I was reading the Guardian books page today and came across an interview with AS Byatt. The quote under the headline read “In my work, writing is always so dangerous. It’s very destructive. People who write books are destroyers.”

Intrigued, I followed the link and read the entire article. In context, Byatt is discussing characters that she has written who are writers. The full quote is:

“The book [The Children’s Book] touches, too, on what Byatt calls ‘one of the steady themes of my writing that I don't understand - as opposed to several that I do. I don't understand why, in my work, writing is always so dangerous. It's very destructive. People who write books are destroyers.’”

Interestingly enough, later on in the article Byatt refers to herself as a sort of creator. The writer makes things, constructs things – characters, worlds, dramas. She sees them as three-dimensional.

Writers as creators and destroyers. Two sides of the same coin.

The creator seems obvious. Writers – fiction writers – create every time they sit down to work. World building. Character development. Dialogue and action. They all spring from a glimmer of an idea and bloom on a blank page.

Writers as destroyers is not so pleasant-sounding but ultimately appropriate on several levels. Like a god, we build a world, a character. Like a god, we can run it all down. Characters can die. (And be reborn, if necessary.) Books can end without a satisfactory conclusion. Worlds end tragically. With a strike on the keyboard, the writer rules all.

She might be talking about the artist’s worldview and how that can ultimately ruin her. Many artists, writers and otherwise, become known because of their personal demise. There a link between the artistic temperament and depression, solitude, suicide. It is terrifying to think that you can get that lost in your art.

But maybe it’s because artists can see the end as well as the beginning. Tragedy isn’t surprising. We know that every hero has his flaw. We know nothing is perfect. We know the work that goes into constructing something that needs to appear effortless.

The writer is the magician and sees every trap door, plants the cards up her sleeve. The knowledge of the trick takes away the wonder. It's a little sad - we all need a bit of wonder.