I often hear people say “write, leak.” This is not merely a coincidence of shape; in fact, “write” and “leak” were originally the same character. Jinshan Ciba says: “写，置物也。——《说文》。俗字亦作泻。” Perhaps the evolution of “写” into the meaning of writing merely stems from its original sense of “to place,” but Chinese characters are, after all, endlessly subtle. Whether or not this is a coincidence, these two characters have in any case been deeply bound together.
People say good prose is “flowed out,” and I know that my own articles really are flowed out. In this way, I suppose they at least satisfy the necessary but not sufficient condition for becoming good prose.
An article that “flows out” is not written to accomplish some other purpose; it is simply because the words within one’s heart overflow. In other words, one can “hold it in” no longer, and it naturally spills out. This kind of spilling is not necessarily a torrent; it may also come slowly, like a trickling stream. Thus in many cases, “squeezing out” an article may actually be more efficient.
I have written quite a lot, but in fact I do not always write very quickly. Sometimes an essay of a thousand-odd characters will also waste half a day of my time. But whether fast or slow, my articles are all flowed out.
So no matter how long the article is, I always like to write it in one go; the fewer pauses in between, the better. Especially when writing papers, for most of the time one is simply “holding it in,” and only when everything is ready do I, in the last day or two, write out a paper of ten thousand-odd characters in one breath. To put the mindset involved in an extremely indecent metaphor: well, it is not exactly pleasant to keep holding in a bowel movement a little longer, but if one has to keep stopping halfway through the purge, then that is even more fatal. The ancients said that a person cannot defecate the same bowel movement twice; so it is best to purge the same article all at once. If one insists on doing it in batches, one inevitably feels unwell all over.
Someone asks whether doing scholarship requires reading so many books and writing so many articles—doesn’t it get tiring, doesn’t it get annoying? In fact, one does not feel tired about purging articles, just as people do not feel tired when they are held up and need to excrete. Likewise, reading books out of a desire for knowledge does not feel tiring, just as people do not feel tired when they are hungry and go to eat. If reading and writing become an inner demand of a person, then they become natural matters and a part of life. Of course, even when something arises from a natural demand, eating too aggressively or excreting too frequently is not conducive to physical and mental health; reading and writing also require moderation and regulation. I understand this point as well.
Beyond making one feel natural and happy, and not burdening one with writing, the merit of purging articles lies in sincerity and fluency. It is not that someone else has assigned me a certain question, and then I wrack my brains and exhaust my mind trying to talk about it. Rather, it is an expression of an irresistible desire, arising from an inescapable process of thinking through those questions that I myself have raised in my heart: I cannot help asking, I cannot help continuing to think, I cannot help purging out my thoughts. An article obtained in this way is certainly sincere and straightforward, because I am responsible only to myself, and there is absolutely no need for affectation or pretension.
But purging articles also has an important drawback. That is, once I have happily purged out an article, I often no longer have the heart to examine it again or repeatedly refine it. But “purging” does not guarantee that what comes out is necessarily a good thing. After all, what is squeezed out is often milk, but what is purged out is more often shit. The fact that an article is purged out does not mean that it does not need further reflection and revision. If one only cares about purging and not about shaping it into form, then unless one is a genius like Wittgenstein, the fragmented article one gets can only be pure doodling. In this respect, I generally try to be a conscientious listener while purging, reviewing as I go tends to be relatively smoother, or else, right after I finish purging, I quickly take advantage of the freshness to appreciate it once. But if you ask me to revise an article I purged long ago, I always have no motivation at all, and often am even quite unwilling. Therefore, in this respect, if I could have one or two sharp-tongued readers to help me review the finished article, that would be ideal beyond compare. Of course, I still have not yet reached the stage where I must systematically reexamine my own writing. When I have gone far enough that these articles of mine have already become “history,” and can thus suggest to me other “possibilities,” then I can come back to reexamine myself, converse with my former self, and offer new interpretations; it would not be too late.
July 18, 2008
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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