The Writer And The Artist Within

The writer is a creator of beautiful things. He is a pruveyor of what's good in the world and also what's evil lurking within it. The writer is an artist, just as the artist resides within the writer. Like a mathematician who delves in the study of numbers to bring abut logic in an ever-dynamic universe, the writer's tool resides in his words. But therein lies a difference: the writer never strives to search for logic, because he knows that finding logic in a dynamic world is more like searching for the resting place of Pandora's Box. It would be a pure waste of time. Rather than find the truth, the writer is only interested in searching for it. There is always a thin line between what's truth and what's a lie. It is within this thin line that the writer is most effective.
Imagine what it would be, burying your head into the secrets of Finnegan's Wake; walking alongside The Invincible Man; raising your voice to The Song Of Solomon; lost and all alone in the of The Lord Of The Flies; walking through the merry streets of London alonside Mrs. Dalloway; investigating the backwoods of Deliverance, only to ressurect out into The Heart Of Darkness; knowing fully well that Things Fall Apart just as it is hopeless waiting for The English Patient.
The writer is a mere mortal; it is the artist residing within him that lives forever. The writer doesn't write; it is the artist that does all the writing, the writer is merely the conduct through which the words flow. In the end, the written word lives forever, whereas the writer grows old and dies and is soon forgotten.
All writing is Art; just as in the end, all writting is useless.