Guest Post: The Marquis Went Out at Five: Questioning What We Write and Why

Article by Katheryn Rivas

If you've ever participated in a writing course or taken a literature class in college or high school, you may have heard the one about the marquis. It goes like this: Paul Valery, a French poet, essayist, and philosopher, famously noted that he could not abide most fiction writing of his day because of its seeming randomness. He said something to the effect of, "What do I care if the marquis went out at five?", essentially poking fun at the fact that so many stories begin with a subject, an action, and frame of reference, all being essentially meaningless and contingent.

As writers, whether of fiction or nonfiction, how do we come to terms with this narrative problem? What, Valery essentially asks us, is our point? Most writing advice out there focuses on style or craft, on questions of how to write, but we are very seldom provoked with the problem of what to write, because, ostensibly, we think we already know. Of course what I have to say is important, you may think, otherwise I wouldn't have already written what I have.
 
At the same time, however, it behooves us to take a step back from our writing projects to understand the nature of what we are setting out to do. In order to write something, we are faced with a multiplicity of choices. Although the impulse to write is certainly a natural one, and the characters, situations, and underlying themes we choose are inevitably picked because they suit our moods, our interests, our conception of the world, we should always ask ourselves why.

Why did we choose what we chose? Why will my audience think it important? Am I selecting at random my subject, style, etc., for any ultimate purpose, and if not, am I overlooking other choices that would be possible, that would defy convention, and in so doing, create something truly remarkable?

In his memoirs, Valery notes: "Perhaps it would be interesting, just once, to write a work which at each juncture would show the diversity of solutions that can present themselves to the mind and from which it chooses the unique sequel to be found in the text. To do this would be to substitute for the illusion of a unique scheme which imitates reality that of the possible-at-each-moment, which I think more truthful. It has sometimes happened that I have published different versions of the same poem: some of them have been contradictory, and there has been no lack of criticism on this score. But no one has told me why I should refrain from such variations."
 
Of course, you may be wondering how questions posed by an early 20th century poet and philosopher could apply to your writing, which may be more along the lines of blog articles or freelance journalism, and not necessarily a novel that aspires to what Valery says would make "great literature". At the same time, however, when writers of all stripes question what they are writing and why they are writing it, it helps to redirect their passion. Especially when you are running out of steam, when you encounter the inevitable "writer's block," your problems may arise from the fact that you don't have a specific direction, a justification for your work that is driving you to keep on going.
 
We are, after all, creatures whose brains are hard-wired to seek meaning in everything. If we don't have a reason that frames every one of our writing choices, then we don't have anything. We have only a marquis who went out at five.
 
Katheryn Rivas is a freelance writer and blog junkie, who blogs about online universities. She particularly loves connecting with her readers, who can direct any questions or comments to: katherynrivas87@gmail.com.