Amid Covid strains, it's good to reflect: Twenty thought-provoking faces donned by writers.

By Peter P. Jacobi

The writer has responsibilities that also are opportunities.

Consider all a writer is or can be: any one or all of twenty faces, guises, realities -- and all for the readers who pause in their own busy existence to spend moments with us and our words.

Twenty roles a writer potentially fulfills: the writer's is a multifaceted task.

One

As writer, you are friend.

You feel for ... you adore ... you are loyal to ... you share ... you love another human being completely, in this case someone you don't even know and are likely never to meet.

And yet, across distance and time, you and he or she merge as soul mates. You cannot do without your friend, the reader, and your friend, the reader, cannot do without you.

It is a matter of bonding. The words are your bond.

Two

As writer, you are confider. You speak of things that others might not.

There is no secret between us, you tell your reader. Trust me to bring you close to me, you tell your reader. What I know, what I've experienced, what I feel I pass along to you, and you tell your reader.

Three

As writer, you are teacher.

And it is here you touch a timeless future. As the author wrote in The Education of Henry Adams: "A teacher affects eternity. He can never tell where his influence stops."

And that is your power -- to show the way, to instruct, to change the outlook and enhance the knowledge and deepen the wisdom of your reader, your student.

Four

As writer, you are explainer. What you put on paper causes heads to nod -- not from sleep but from understanding.

The information you offer is new, or the content with which you offer it is new, or the perspective from which you offer it is new.

But something becomes clearer, sharper.

Five

As writer, you are adviser. You counsel.
You guide.
You warm.
You redirect.
You alert.

Six

As writer, you are preacher. You're a pathfinder to enhanced spirituality, a door-opener to values, a voice that stills the tumult and lights the dark path.

Seven

As writer, you are comforter.
Reducing the reader’s tension.
Chasing a cloud away.

Packing up reader troubles in an old kit bag, so to "smile -- smile -- smile." Or at least causing the reader to understand real troubles, greater troubles, alongside which his own pale.

You soothe.

Eight

As writer, you are observer. You serve as eyes. And ears.

You bring the reader close. You give through words that sense of participation the reader could not have had experientially in person. Through the words, you say to your reader: "You are there!"

Nine

As writer you are photographer.

You bring to a paper the is or was of things and places and people.

You recreate and -- though words on paper frustratingly are not the same as things or places or people -- you strive for fidelity, for truth in packaging.

You make a ball a word that turns once more into a ball, a house into words that reshape themselves into a house.

Ten

As writer you are painter.

You not only make a ball a word that turns once more into a ball, but a ball that becomes a metaphor or semaphore that conjures a new reality, and a larger one.

As would a poet.

The subject turns personal. It's handled as no one else would or could handle it.

Eleven

As writer, you are sensualist.

You evoke images undiluted or unforgiving or unforgettable.

You provoke a reaction, maybe undiluted, maybe unforgiving, maybe unforgettable.

Twelve

As writer, you are costumer.
You wrap up an idea.
You close an event.
You encapsulate a place.
You entrap a conviction.
Raiment, makeup, decor, you deal in.

Thirteen

As writer you are entertainer.

You perform.
You entice.
You cajole.
You seduce.

Fourteen

As writer, you are adventure.

You explore the unknown and improbable.

You take chances. You enter realms dangerous and fields undiscovered.

Fifteen

As writer, you are imaginer.

You cause the mind to engage in flights of fancy.

The make-believe takes form in your mind and in your words, to infect the reader. Nothing is too far-fetched. Nothing is impossible.

The imagination roams, first in you and then in your reader.

Sixteen

As writer, you are dream catcher.

The bad ones, as from Stephen King.

The good ones, as from you.
You catch stars.
And memories.
And matters just beyond a wakened state or even beyond sleep.

The ungraspable is ensnared. The unimaginable is tamed.

Seventeen

As writer, you are healer.

You pass a fight. You make better. You can rest.

And feed. And strengthen. And soften. And renew.

Eighteen

As writer, you are enricher.

You add to the wealth of a reader's mind and heart.

You provide treasure for the emotion. You provide succor for the knowledge within the reader. You provide support for belief.

Nineteen

As writer, you are inspirer.

You lift up.
And refresh.

Twenty

As writer, finally, you are conscience.

You cause the reader to say, "I know I can be better." And "I know things can be better." And "because a writer has caused me to gain new insight, maybe I can help make myself and things better."

Such responsibility.
Such opportunity.

A classic article from a past issue in tribute to the late Peter J. Jacobi, longtime EO writer and author of The Magazine Article: How to Think It, Plan It, Write It.

Add your comment.